Playboy Mommy
by Zafona
Summary: AU. Taking her oldest son, Mary Winchester escaped her husband and consequently left her newborn. Being raised in an environment where his mother sells herself to make ends meet, Dean meets Sam 15 years later and neither know they're related. Please R&R
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note_:**

**Another story written between myself and Touta Matsuda (my awesome co-author!) Hope you like it, I'll warn now: It is Wincest this time around, sorry my beloved Destiel fans, my friend has insisted this time :) But no worries, our little angel is always present.**

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><p><em>Twelve years ago my mom ran away from my father. She took nothing with her except for me –her oldest son. I was almost five, and I don't remember too much about life before the city. Mom never told me exactly why she left. She said that karma had a way of working back to you, and so you should never say anything negative about someone, "even if the fucker deserves every word of it." She's always done a really good job of keeping me clued out about my father. I can't even remember his face, not really. The more I think about our past, the more I wonder if I'm missing something, like I forgot something important that mom won't tell me. <em>

_Everyone in this city knows my mom, even the people who you'd think wouldn't have a clue. I know the fathers of all my classmates, and now that we're older, some of my classmates come calling too. Through my mom's work, I know many of my teachers, the principal, my doctor, and our preacher; the mayor, our dentist, and all of the city's sports teams. People travel in from out of town and out of state, just to see my mom. Because of her work she has a lot of 'friends' and that's alright. They usually help us out, in one way or another. I've never failed a grade yet, and we've never paid for hospital visits. Well, we've never paid for anything in the conventional sense. _

_Growing up without a dad has been tough. My mom's done the best she can, and I've never gone hungry thanks to her hard work. Every night she'd tell me that everything would be ok, that everything gets sorted out in the end and the deserving get their justice –and eventually their peace. She would remind me that I'm never alone and that there are angels watching over us. Sometimes I wonder if these are the same angels working for that god she screams for when her 'friends' come calling._

_People are disgusting. Most of those men have wives at home, and children too. No one has any sense of family or loyalty anymore –and the whole thing is one big secret. A secret that everyone knows, but no one talks about. When we go out they all whisper and stare. The same men who'll visit her twice a month will whisper to their wives that she shouldn't be allowed to raise a son, that it's not decent. I can't stand them, any of them –not anymore._

_I want to do something about it, but my mom tells me to calm down, that I can't let my anger issues get the better of me. And when I do get angry, she cries and tells me that I remind her of my dad. What can I do? When stuff like that happens, I take a deep breath and apologize profusely. From what I understand, dad never did that –never apologized for anything. And I'd bet there's a lot he has to apologize for, a lot that he needs to answer for. One day I'll find him, and I'll make him pay. What kind of man treats his wife like that? Let's her leave to take care of herself and raise his son, and doesn't do a damned thing to stop it? I don't know the whole story... maybe he did try. _

_I'll always be there to comfort my mom, and I feel awful when I make her cry. Though it seems like that's becoming more common lately. I'm trying really hard to make her happy, but everything about this life looks bleaker by the day. Mom's getting depressed, but I know that she's been fighting depression off for years. She's getting older, and though she's well known and reputed, business is slowing –and the requests are changing. Eventually mom's not going to be able to take care of us anymore... and that'll be up to me._

_**Day 1**_

Dean Winchester walked through the doors of his high school, the first day of his last year. The usual whisperings stirred up as he passed his classmates in the halls on his way to homeroom. The big joke last year was to call him Jesus, you know: son of the virgin Mary. They all thought it was a riot. If he didn't already know it would make his mother cry he would've gotten himself good and expelled over that. Instead he remained quiet and let them joke. What they say in high school is of no consequence when living your life in the real world. They would never understand how difficult life is for some people. This was never a fight of pride, only survival. Pride brought on needless battles.

Dean passed several familiar faces, people he'd seen far too much of over the summer break. He passed by the preacher's son –Castiel Novak. The boy tried so hard to remain ignorant of his father's activities, trying so hard to believe that his father was a righteous man, doing the work of his Father in heaven and all that. Dean was pretty sure Castiel blamed Mary for his father's corruption. The 'whore of babylon' as it were. Dean had never spoken with Castiel –which wasn't uncommon of Dean's interaction with other students.

Seating himself at the back of the class, Dean waited for the morning procession of 'welcome back' to occur before class finally started, so the day could finally end. The teacher was beaming upon entry to the classroom. Smiling brightly, she opened her arms to the class.

"Welcome back, everyone." She looked over her new flock for the year, and pointedly avoided eye contact with Dean. "For our final year I'd like you all to welcome your fellow graduate. He's just transferred here with his father's detail, and will be joining you for all the ups, downs, and celebrations of your graduating year. I'd like everyone to warmly welcome Sam Winchester." At the mention of the name 'Winchester' the class broke out in a quiet riot. Upon Sam's entrance, however, they were immediately silenced.

As the class took in the sight of their incredibly tall, incredibly built classmate, the teacher proceeded to give a little back story for the boy. "Sam here is a little younger than you all, by about two years. He's incredibly smart –having been offered membership to MENSA, but declining. He has won several awards for research projects and national spelling bees, and has been employed by the government's scientific community on several groundbreaking projects. Sam," the teacher moved to relinquish her metaphorical talking stick, "would you care to share a little about yourself with the class?"

Dean couldn't help but stare at the boy. The teacher said that Sam was younger than them, but judging from his superior intelligence and well developed body, no one would give him any flak for it. The teen looked like he was tough as nails, and wore the most nonchalant expression. If more of Mary's clients looked like that, accidently walking in on a business transaction wouldn't be so traumatizing.

Sam stared at the classroom ahead of him, his eyes looked cold and his stance told the same story. His gaze shifted to the teacher, not really wanting to take her up on the prompting. It was bad enough she went on about his spelling bees, now he had to talk about himself. What student, especially in grade 12 regardless of age, wants to do that? A shallow breath was all he needed before speaking, his tone reminiscent of someone answering to a drill sergeant. "Thank you for welcoming me to your class," his gaze drifted over the faces staring at him, "I'm not easy to push around so don't try it. I'm not here to be your friend I'm here to study, please don't be offended if I ignore you. I will only accept being referred to as Sam, Samuel, or Winchester. If you call me Sammy I will punch you. I hope I've made myself clear." He looked to the teacher, ignoring her expression, "I will seat myself now." Sam's introduction had matched his stance and expression perfectly: Fuck off. Of all people Dean could respect someone's wishes to be left the hell alone; after all, those were his wishes as well.

With that, Sam found an empty seat and faced the front. He was taller but the only open seat was near the front, he ended up sitting ahead of Castiel who was much shorter. Cass scratched the back of his head in contemplation; he could either ask his new peer to trade spots or just accept that he'd sat in a bad place. Cass decided against bugging Sam.

The teacher started her lesson, the intro to the year that no one really wants to sit through. Cass glanced over at Dean sitting across from him. They'd never spoken, not much anyway. After having decided that this year would be different than the rest, Castiel knew that Dean was where he should start. Dean was an outcast and Cass was tired of being grouped in with the rest of the assholes that bugged him, even though Cass had never done it himself. The black haired male leaned over in good will, "Hey, Dean." He smiled and motioned toward Sam, "Are you two related? He's a Winchester too, figured I'd ask."

Dean looked at Castiel with a slightly perturbed expression, not sure if he was being teased again, or if Castiel was seriously curious. "I have no relatives, it's just my mother and I." Dean looked Castiel in the eye, still unsure of what this was all about. Maybe he asked just so he could drop the name 'Winchester' around the new kid, and maybe get a reaction out of him.

Dean leaned in closer and whispered harshly, "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here, but I don't want to have any part of it, do you understand me?" Dean's tone indicated how serious he was, but his eyes had the expression of a wounded animal –instinctively defensive. Years of cruel high school peers and twisted social interactions had left him hurt and closed off. Castiel's attempts at a mended relationship would take a fair bit of time.

Cass flinched at Dean's reaction and nodded his head, "I'm sorry, I was only curious if you knew Sam, that's all." He spoke softly, hoping Dean wouldn't take further offense. Cass had never been one to insult Dean, though he'd never helped his peer either so he deserved the reaction he received.

Sam hadn't flinched at the sound of his name; he was too busy thinking over the course of the last few days.

_Sam walked into the house and spotted several boxes stacked in the kitchen. Curiosity was the first feeling that rose in his mind though he quickly answered the questions on his own. John Winchester came into view moments later, his tired form continuing to throw things into random cardboard containers. "What are you doing?"_

"_Isn't it obvious." John's voice was harsh and agitated as always._

_Sam almost growled, his muscles tensing, "Alright fine, why are you packing?"_

"_We're moving." John spoke simply and to the point, as if his answer was the end-all be-all. _

"_No, we're not!" Sam shouted, taking several steps forward. "You didn't even mention this, you can't spring up moving out of the blue!"_

"_Too bad," John turned to face him, anger and frustration growing in his eyes, "We're moving and that's final. I was transferred to a place in Lawrence,"_

"_I'm graduating this year! Why can't this wait? My friends are-"_

"_It can't wait, Sam. Now go pack your things."_

"_No."_

"_I'm not asking, Sam." John turned and continued tossing things in boxes. _

_Sam clenched his fists. He knew there was nothing he could say. A frustrated shout escaped him and he stormed to his room, following his orders. His mind racing, looking for a way to stay though he knew he was too young to live on his own. _

_They'd arrived at their new house and Sam was put through the usual drills. John being ex-marine and somewhat of a control freak, he tried to keep Sam under his thumb and forced him to train. He'd lost his wife and oldest son; he wasn't going to lose Sammy too. He'd never told Sam about his brother or mother, he'd lied and said they had been killed in some accident. That way Sam would never leave him to find them. At that time John had no idea that Mary and Dean were living in Lawrence._

Dean looked over at Sam, the tallest guy in class, now seated in the second row. Dean looked back at Castiel, who appeared helpless in Sam's shadow. Dean didn't particularly want to be seen by the teacher, and leaned back in to Castiel. "Did you want to switch?"

Cass looked up in surprise and quickly nodded his head, "Yes, thank you." Maybe his friendly attempts were working after all, though he mostly doubted it. Just to be sure, Cass decided he'd stay back when the class let out; knowing Dean had a habit of lagging.

Dean collected his books and shuffled desks with Castiel, and happily sat behind Sam –hidden from the teacher's judgemental stares.

The teacher's name was Gloria Lanset, and her husband was a city police officer. He frequently made midnight stops at the Winchester residence to call on Mary, which wasn't unusual of anyone in town really. What was odd was that Officer Lanset shared his endeavours with his wife. On occasion Gloria would accompany her husband to watch the deed, and possibly join in. Two weeks ago she asked Mary to bring Dean into the room. Mary promptly refused, and when Gloria pressed the matter, Mary turned on George and reminded him that his wife was requesting sexual interaction with a minor. He wasn't keen on supporting Mary's argument over his wife's, but with that reminder came the underlying threat of ceasing her services. Dean was left alone.

Dean was last to exit the class for break, straggling behind to avoid the main surge of bodies into the halls. Castiel had been terribly "smiley" with him today, and it was extremely off-putting. Apparently the preacher's son wanted to continue his attempts at small talk, and had stayed behind with Dean.

"Alright Castiel, really. What are you doing? It's really... freaking me out." Dean shifted uncomfortably, fully distrusting of this social interaction. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam, the one he really wanted to talk to –figuratively speaking, of course. Sam wanted to be left alone, and Dean didn't want to disturb him, but the guy looked like an upright individual. And he was... attractive.

It was inevitable that Dean would ask. Why would someone who barely spoke to you for over four years start now? "I didn't mean to freak you out," Cass adjusted his books as he approached Dean's side; "I just wanted to... well, mend the 'relationship' between us. I've been cold toward you in the past and I wanted to change that. If it's alright, I'd like to be friends." Cass didn't expect it to work right off the bat but it didn't hurt to try early.

Dean paused, not just his speech and not just any movements he may have been carrying out with his book bag –his mind ground to a halt. Part of him wanted to write off everything Cass was doing as a trick to get him to drop his guard, and that was a pretty big part. But there was some truth in Cass' voice that carried through. The preacher's son had never been one to pick a fight or to start a rumour. Actually if Dean thought about it, Castiel followed the integrity portions of his religion rather well.

"You want to be... friends?" Dean's confusion was evident, laden with disbelief. He looked Castiel over again, just to be sure. Having some kind of social connection at school wouldn't be a bad thing –not in his last year of school. It could also be a very very bad thing. "Alright, I guess so." Dean didn't have to ask if Cass knew his reputation –the guy was more than aware. It still baffled Dean, but he'd at least test the waters.

Sam, who had stayed for a moment to be spoken to by Mrs. Lanset, pushed past the two conspiring near the door and down the hall.

Dean let out a forced gulp of air when Sam shoved passed. "Watch it," he answered out of habit. Keeping on good terms with his peers didn't even exist on his priority list, and it just sort of slipped out. As far as Dean could tell, Sam hadn't actually heard him.

Sam's strides were long and carried him like he knew exactly where he was going, though he didn't know the school at all. Those green eyes drifted over the faces ahead of him for the second time today, many faces turning to look. Apparently he already had several rumours about him floating around, though he didn't care. He would have just walked to his locker, exchanged his books for the next class' and gone to the classroom. That's what he _would_ have done, if someone hadn't shouted from behind him; "Hey Sammy!"

Sam's head snapped in the direction, it was one of the males from his first class, surrounded by several friends. _'He hadn't had the balls to call me Sammy earlier on, so he waited until he had back up. Very cute.'_ Sam turned around, a friendly expression and a smile on his face. He walked over to the young man that shouted down the hall, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." His voice came across as light-hearted to the bullies, getting a bit of a grin out of the guy that started it.

"See? I knew you wouldn't punch me, Sammy. Name's Tristan." The smug expression he wore was immediately erased as both of Sam's fists, one after the other, came in and rammed him onto the floor.

"Well Tristan, I warned you." Sam spat at him, his gaze shifting to the shocked faces of Tristan's friends. When none of them moved, Sam turned and headed back down the hall without another word.

Cass blinked incredulously and looked at Dean as if to ask 'did you see that!' though he couldn't find the words. Dean exchanged glances with Cass to be sure his classmate had seen the same thing he had. No one really expected someone to start swinging after being called 'Sammy', regardless of the threat he'd uttered earlier. Cass stared down the hall to see that Tristan wasn't just on the floor, he was unconscious. A light "Huh" vibrated in Castiel's throat, "Serves him right, I guess."

"Ha ha HA! Jackass had it coming." Dean grinned from ear to ear –every passing encounter had him liking Sam more and more... well, except that being shoved at the door, but they _were_ standing right in front of it.

The rest of the day dragged on, and Dean vanished during lunch period. Part of it was to avoid the potential bullying, and part of it was stay away from Castiel. He wanted to be friends with him, but being overwhelmed on the first day was a great way to lose it with the eager would-be friend.

Dean walked in the front door, and counted shoes in the foyer –no visitors right now. "Mom, I'm home." Dean heard the quick stifle of tears in the other room, and quickly went to check on her. It was evident by the redness and puffiness of her eyes that she had been crying for some time. "Mom, what happened?" Dean dropped down beside her, placing an arm across her back and trying to comfort her. "Did someone hurt you?"

Mary shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Don't worry about it, honey. We'll make it through."

"No, you're going to tell me what's wrong. You can't just leave it like this. Why are you crying?" Dean's brow furrowed, concern evident in his eyes. His mom tried so hard to keep things together, and to keep him out of it. It was hard to feel like he was capable of protecting her when it was obvious she was the one protecting him.

"We're... going to lose the house. I haven't been able to keep up with the payments lately, and the bank claims that since I'm a single parent with no legitimate source of income, it just looks bad to allow us to keep the house." Mary pulled a letter out, the plain black print clearly read: 'Eviction Notice.'

Dean was shocked. He knew this sort of thing didn't happen overnight –it would have taken months of accumulation. Or possibly she accidently pissed off a banker, who has now decided to get even. "Where are we going to go? Would it help if I got a job?"

Mary shook her head, "Who in this town would hire you? We'd have to move towns, and we still wouldn't be able to get a house. Never mind we don't have a vehicle to move with."

Dean frantically tried running through answers, wanting desperately to fix things. Nothing was perfect, put at least if things had stayed the same they couldn't get worse. "Do you know a Sam Winchester? About two or three years younger than me? He and his dad just moved to town... Are we related? Would they help?"

Mary's eyes opened wide, and Dean wasn't sure if it was horror or shock, but there was no glimpse of hope to be found there. "Oh my god..."

"What, mom? What is it?"

"Just go, I'll take care of it."

Dean didn't bother asking 'go where.' She wanted to be left alone, and apparently she did know those other Winchesters. Dean was sick of not knowing and not helping, so his last ditch effort plan started formulating in his head. Of all the people in this town who fucked his mother, how many would help her? Dean figured a big fat zero would be an accurate approximation. But there was one man who'd be an endless case of hypocrisy if he didn't lift a finger...

As the sun set, Dean came up on the church –lead by pastor Novak. In the old days people who needed shelter could call on the church. The icon of Jesus Christ was one who spoke with the whores and the drug addicts, those who needed help. There should be no reason why the pastor would turn them away now, and with enough blackmail there was even less reason for him to turn them away. Dean knocked on the door.

_Knock knock knock. _

"Castiel," Jimmy called from his study. ...no answer. "Castiel! Get the door please,"

Cass, having been busy with dinner, grumbled quietly to himself before answering, "Yes, father." He lowered the heat on the stove, just in case this took longer than he'd expected. He wasn't sure why his dad insisted on having him answer the door when most people knocked to speak with 'Father Novak'. Regardless, Cass wiped his hands on his apron before quickly removing it and jogging down the hall to the front door. "Coming!" He called as he approached, knowing it took him a bit to get there and didn't want their guests to think no one was home.

Dean thought it sort of odd that the Novak's resided within the church; the house itself was attached to the church, but wasn't really part of it. The set up did make it rather easy to find the preacher when you needed him though.

Castiel swung the door open, "Hello?" His eyes widened when Dean's broken expression came into view.

Dean's gaze rose up from the ground, and his eyes settled into Castiel's; the exchange from moments before with his mother playing over and over in his mind. The implications of his mother's declining business clientele, their depleting capital resources, the potential problems with his own employment, all coupled with impending homelessness and the possibility of his mother now having enemies was just too much to keep hidden from his outward expressions.

"Oh my... Come in," he took Dean's arm gently and tugged him into the house. The distress on the young Winchester's face was enough to warrant letting him in, Cass didn't care why he was knocking on their door just thankful that Dean had chosen the Novak's over anyone else.

Dean followed Castiel into the kitchen and took the seat offered to him. He looked around at the place –apparently the preacher had a fairly good income. Dean wondered how much of the parishioners' donations actually made it to where they thought it would go. Speaking of, where did they think it was going? Everything was clean, spic, and span. But for all of the new and all of the wealth, Dean could tell immediately that it lacked a mother's touch.

"I'd bring you to the living room but I'll burn dinner so we'll talk here." Cass adjusted the heat on their meal again before turning back to face Dean, leaning onto the back of the chair opposite him.

Dean didn't bother asking if he could have any food, he wasn't a mooch and he could find his own way. Just as the thought crossed his mind, his mother's words came floating back: _"Don't bother with battles of pride."_ Dean hung his head, he wasn't sure how, but he had more pride than he knew what to do with and wasn't even sure how he'd come to acquire it. Swallowing pride, Dean looked up at Cass. "Is it possible to get some food?"

Cass looked at the stove and quickly nodded, "Yes! Of course you can, I'm sorry I should have offered." He could see the battle of pride in Dean's face and felt a pain in his chest, he hated to see people struggle to ask for things they needed. "It's no bother, don't worry about it." He looked Dean in the eyes now, "Okay, tell me what's going on." His tone of voice was soft and comforting; he wanted Dean to know he was there to help. He sincerely hoped he didn't come across as pushy.

After having been ditched at school Cass was wondering what Dean really wanted. He hadn't gotten a chance to really expression how happy he was to hear Dean was willing to be his friend, maybe that was why Dean avoided him during lunch. Maybe Dean felt underappreciated; Cass had to make sure he fixed that.

It occurred to Dean now that it looked like he came here to talk to Cass. It was only earlier today that Cass had proposed friendship between them, and now Dean came calling at late hours and it was evident that something was amiss. How would he tell him that he'd actually come to see Father Novak? Maybe it would be easier not to talk to the preacher, Cass could talk to him instead.

"It has to do with my mom." Dean watched Castiel carefully for negative physical feedback. The one thing he couldn't stand was people talking bad about his family... which happened only to be his mother, but all the same.

Cass' body language showed no signs of judgement, only a sad tint in his bright blue eyes. He nodded his head slowly, urging Dean to continue. He wasn't one to assume anything about people, though he wasn't entirely sure Dean knew that about him.

"We're running on broke, and now the bank has served an eviction notice. We're going to be out of a home, and soon. My mom wouldn't have told me unless she'd already tried everything else. I don't think we have much time left and we need a place to stay." Dean looked somewhat pleadingly at Castiel, "I was hoping that the church would help. Despite everything, my mom does attend every Sunday –almost every sermon. Please, if you could talk to your father, or let me. I just don't know where we can go." Dean looked down to his lap and fidgeted with his hands. "She'll never ask anyone for help, this is all I could think to do."

Cass couldn't help but shake his head, "I'm sorry to hear that." He'd been taught to start by expressing his condolences, second came the advice or bad news, depending on the situation.

Cass thought through several options, one that they could get people to donate to help them out but that wouldn't help fast enough. Another idea involved buying them a house but the Novak's didn't have that kind of money either. Most people that visited them saw some of the lavish things laying about and thought they might have been pretty well off. The truth was that the nice things scattered about were gifts from friends and church-goers. The setup of their housing section looked extravagant because that's how the old church was originally built, made it look 'vintage'. All in all, however, if it weren't for Cass' personal additions to their combined income, his father would have put them out on the street with his ridiculous habits and addictions.

The last idea he could come up with was to offer Dean and his mother to stay with them. "Well," he continued his train of thought after halting it for a few moments. "What if you moved into the church with us?" he paused to check the food and removed it from the heat, nothing like Hamburger helper before bed.

Dean's eyes lit up, that was exactly what he was looking for. It was a church, a sanctuary, it was supposed to shelter people in need... that's what Dean tried to tell himself. That's what his mother would want him to believe. She was so devout, it hurt.

"_Angels are watching over you, sleep tight."_

Dean shook his head. She was always hoping for that glimmer of light to swoop down and save them. Or maybe she believed that it was always there, stopping things from getting worse. Who knows. All Dean knew was that it didn't work for them. Hadn't in the past, and wasn't helping now. Those useless angels were either complete fiction, or complete dicks. Ironically, the preacher's son was offering help, maybe it was a sign.

"I mean, I'd have to check with my father but it's an option I think." Cass sat down at the table, letting their meal cool.

"What's an option?" Jimmy walked in carrying a coffee mug that said #1 Dad on it, something Cass had given him about ten years ago.

Dean jumped in his seat. He wasn't expecting Pastor Jimmy to sneak up behind him. It was always more difficult for Dean to look in the eyes of men he's seen fucking his mother. It stirred a rage he just couldn't satiate. The preacher was the worst; why? Because he's a fucking _preacher_.

"Well Dean and his mother are going through difficult times and they need our help." Cass glanced up at his dad though he was a little unsure about how he should explain this. "They're being evicted and we're they're only option."

Jimmy sipped his coffee, thoughts brewing behind his eyes, "Well..." He lowered the mug and looked at Dean, "I'm not sure if we're they're only option, Castiel." He spoke to Cass though his eyes were on Dean, "Have you and your mother discussed this already or are you just looking?"

Looking up at the man, Dean could see the disapproval roaming in those eyes. He wanted to tell Dean to leave, that his mother's problems were no problem of his, Dean could just feel it. His hazel eyes narrowed, rage fluttering in his chest. This bastard was making him sick, the hypocrisy would choke him, but thankfully Cass felt similarly, whether he was aware of it or not.

"That doesn't matter," Castiel stood up and looked Jimmy in the eye, "What matters is he's come knocking and we should answer, let them stay here."

Dean's trembling fists loosened, somehow he knew having Cass ask would work a hundred times better.

Jimmy sighed and sat down next to Dean, "I just want him to know he has more than one option." He looked away from Cass and at Dean, "We will help you if you're stuck, Dean." He placed a gentle hand on the young Winchester's, a caring smile on his face. One that, if Dean were to look at Castiel's reaction to it, he would know it was just a habit and not a real smile. "If you decide to move in with us, we'll need you to cover your own expenses like food and we'll ask for a small amount for the use of the facilities, whatever you can manage." "However," he looked down at his coffee then back at Dean, "Have you spoken to the new Winchester's in town? Maybe you know them?"

Dean could tell that, from Castiel's expression, Cass thought that his father was being incredibly fake. What Dean saw was entirely different. The tenderness of the touch was something... less than priestly and the smile wasn't your usual condolence. The fact that the man said _immediately_ after that Dean would have to find a way to pay for their expenses only sealed the unspoken arrangement. Dean nodded somberly, and as if to say that it was optional, and his arm wasn't being completely twisted into this agreement.

"However," Jimmy looked down at his coffee then back at Dean, "Have you spoken to the new Winchester's in town? Maybe you know them?"

"I don't know them," Dean answered quickly. "I asked my mother about them earlier, and she didn't say a thing about them. It's probably just a coincidence." Dean thought about it, and given how awkwardly dire the situation was becoming, it might very well be a good idea to investigate the Winchester residence. Making a mental note, Dean decided that talking to Sam after school would be a good idea.

Cass thought back to Sam's angry march down the hall earlier that day and shook his head, "I think you should get to know them better before asking for help," he insisted, not comfortable with the idea of Dean living with someone so violent.

"It's up to you Dean," Jimmy sipped from his mug, "What sort of plan did you have in mind? We're offering a bunch of things but I'm not sure what you're looking for."

Dean looked up at the man, still sipping away at his damned coffee. "What I'm looking for is some damn empathy. I've already said we need a place to stay, and Cass has already emphasized that need. And I know full well that you are completely aware of our situation and my mother's wary employment. So please, pastor Jimmy, if you could find it in your heart to let us stay here until we can get back on our feet, that would be greatly appreciated." Dean tried hard not to speak through gritted teeth, and when asking for help and shelter it was best not to insult the man. Dean hoped that he hadn't blown the offer sky high. For good measure he quickly added, "Please."

Dean's tone of voice was almost enough to anger the preacher, though he didn't seem to mind it so much. "Of course, when it comes to that our doors are open to you." Jimmy smiled and pat Dean's shoulder reassuringly though it was far from it. "Good to see you again, I must return to my study. Got a lot to prepare for this weekend's sermons." With that, Jimmy walked out.

Cass lowered his head a little, seeing someone have to resort to pleading with his father made him feel sick. If they came in pleading that was a different story, but having to lower themselves to it because he was being an ass? That just wasn't right. "I'm sorry, Dean." Cass sighed and split the meal into three sections, placing the one with the most food in front of his guest. "I'll do what I can for you," He gave a sympathetic smile before heading down the hall to hand his father supper.

After eating, Dean showed himself to the door, though Cass did accompany him. "Thanks again, Castiel, I really appreciate it. I'm going to go tell my mom the good news, we'll pack up our things right away. As for when we move in..." Dean paused to think about it. "It'll probably be sooner than anyone wants. But thank you. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"You're welcome," Cass smiled, "And don't worry, regardless of how my father is, my arms are open with no attachments, you won't owe me anything. Have a good night." He watched as Dean disappeared down the front steps of the church and down the street, even with some good news he was still down trodden. _'Of course he is, if you were evicted wouldn't you be? Even if a good friend let you stay for a little bit? Whatever help they get doesn't fix the problem.'_ Cass sighed and closed the door.

Unsure of whether or not he'd given his mother enough time or not, Dean quickly made his way back home. Narrowly avoiding homelessness was definitely good news, and he hoped his mother would feel the same way. Throwing open the front door, Dean caught sight of two foreign pairs of shoes, and kept quiet. Mother had guests, and he didn't need to be making a scene and messing it up. He quietly snuck to his room –the news could wait until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Day 2**_

The next day at school, Dean caught sight of Sam by the lockers, being left happily alone by Tristan and his gang. Dean trotted over, "Hi." He greeted the taller teen. His social skills were below par, but he really needed to talk to this guy. "I was wondering if I could ask you a few things."

Sam lifted his head and spotted Dean's rather exhausted expression, "You're the 'watch it' guy from yesterday." He muttered, recalling brushing past Dean yesterday. He hadn't really reacted to the passive aggressive response he'd gotten from the smaller Winchester, didn't see the point.

Dean winced; apparently Sam had heard that after all. This person had to be the least approachable guy Dean had ever met. Everything about him said 'get lost' and –everything considered, it was probably intentional. Dean looked Sam over again; the taller teen remained aloof, and only provided eye contact when he wanted to.

"Word of advice, next time you want to tell someone off, don't shy away from them as you're doing it." Sam closed his locker and turned to face Dean fully, "What's up?"

Dean felt his fist clench temporarily before he stretched his hands to loosen his grip, _'Maybe now would be a good time to start...'_ Dean imagined how that would play out in the span of about six seconds and concluded he'd never meet Sam's father if he started speaking his mind now.

With Sam's full attention Dean was able to get his first good look at those stunning green eyes, though admittedly they did look completely pissed. "I don't mean to bother you, really. I was wondering if you and your dad had any, y'know, family in this town." Dean knew it sounded odd to be asked by a complete stranger if they were related, and as soon as Sam figured out what Dean was really asking, he'd probably punch him in the face.

'_There he goes being mousy again...'_ "Listen," Sam took a breath to think over his next options. Just because he was angry didn't mean he had to take it out on a little guy like this Dean person, though he figured he was getting the wrong impression already. "I'm gonna say this once; I don't have any family. It's me and my drill sergeant though by blood he's my dad, that's all." He could see Dean was scrambling for something, he was starting to become curious as to what it was.

"All I really want is to meet your dad, after school maybe? If that's possible?"

Passing by, Tristan couldn't help but take a stab at the conversation, "What now, you're trying to find new clients for your prostitute mother? Or are you starting up your own business?" Tristan's group broke out into hysterics, complete with knee-slapping.

Dean scowled furiously, but not as furiously as he was blushing. The tint in his cheeks was half from rage and half embarrassment. It was only a matter of time before Sam figured it out –the whole damn town knew, but it could at least be after Dean met the man's father. Now that might not ever happen, or maybe it wouldn't have happened before either.

The next few seconds for Sam seemed to flash by and he barely hesitated to pivot on his heel and punch Tristan in the face again, flooring him but not knocking him out this time. "What's the matter, Tristan? Mommy and Daddy don't love each other so they hire a woman to call a whore so they don't feel like it themselves? Or maybe they don't love you and that's why you do it, hm?" Sam stared down at the bully with a snarl in his voice, "Fuck off and leave him alone, if he is in the business your pay-grade isn't high enough to hire someone of his class. Now get out of here before I really make you hurt."

One of Tristan's friends tried to stand up for his pack leader but Sam would have none of it, grabbing and pinning the jackass to a locker, "I said _fuck off._" Sam hissed in the guy's ear before dropping him to the floor. The group grumbled obscenities before darting down the hall.

Sam's lightning reflexes were a shock to Dean. Tristan was on the ground, _again_. This was two days in a row now, and Dean sorely hoped that he could stick around Sam more often. The fact that Sam was more than willing to fight Tristan and his lackeys was not a surprising as the defensive attitude he took. Dean was speechless for a moment as he tried to make sense of the underlying meaning of Sam's statement. A fair summary went like this: [Compliment] 'You'd be a classy whore.' It was sort of a compliment, anyway. Sam fought his battle, and he didn't even need to; hell, as far as Dean knew Sam hated him.

Sam snorted a little and adjusted his shoulders, turning his attention back to Dean. Now he understood what the issue was here, years of bullying and possible sexual abuse was Dean's excuse for being mousy and fairly cut off from everyone else. His mother needed money but the only thing she was good at was sucking cock, and once she even stooped to that level once it was impossible to get back up, plus she attracted every pervert in the town. This, apparently, meant everyone in the fucking town.

"I'm not sure you want to meet my dad," he didn't skip a beat getting back to their conversation as if the idiots hadn't interrupted them, "But I can take you to him after school, if you wanted." Despite Sam's appearance and attitude, he enjoyed school. It meant time away from John and that's what he needed most these days.

"Really? Thanks, to be honest I didn't expect you to agree." Dean wondered if he should mention the defence he'd received at expense of Sam's possible expulsion, but decided against it. Bringing it up would open the door for Sam to ask questions. Not that he seemed like a particularly nosey person, but better safe than sorry.

Castiel strolled down the hall past Tristan's group, which had secured themselves in their favourite corner of the hall. "Good morning," He smiled as he passed, seeing no reason to be as unfriendly as their lot. This, of course, earned him the title of 'outlet' for Tristan's embarrassed rage.

"The fuck you want, priest?" He snarled.

Cass paused, ignoring the comment and continuing to walk would only make it worse. He turned a gaze on the group, "Just saying good morning, Tristan."

"Funny guy," Tristan stood and sauntered toward what he believed to be a weaker victim than Dean with his new body guard, "Whattaya say we teach preacher boy here a lesson in manners?" He spoke of course to his little gang.

Cass eyed them, would they really be as arrogant and stupid as to start punching their Pastor's son? Though there wasn't much his father could really do, or would really do, but they didn't know that. He watched as they started closing in on him and his options started to flutter out the window. Cass went with his best bet and started booking it down the hall, though he didn't know it was in Sam and Dean's direction. Tristan's group had forgotten this fact, as well.

Castiel's slender frame passed the Winchester's by, too focused on not being used as a punching bag. He'd noticed Dean and waved as he passed, "Morning!" he didn't want to bring this attention to his new friend so he didn't bother stopping, it'd only look like he was trying to hide behind him and that wasn't something Cass wanted Dean thinking.

"Castiel?" Dean asked quizzically. What was he running from

Sam rolled his eyes and stuck his rather long arm out at the appropriate level to close-line Tristan and his group as they tried to chase Castiel. He watched their shocked expressions as they all crumpled into a heap on the floor. He didn't speak to them this time though, it wasn't worth it.

"Wow," Cass trotted back, slightly out of breath but not that bad, he was in pretty good shape. "Thank you, Sam." He looked up at his peer, the one he believed to be something of a ogre last night.

"Don't mention it; I just don't like this guy." Sam looked down at Tristan.

Dean couldn't help but laugh. He wiped a tear from his eye, "You ok Cass?"

Cass nodded his head quickly, "Oh yeah, I'm good." He let out a long sigh of relief, glancing around for teachers. "Seems no one's really paying attention, huh?"

"Never do." Sam muttered.

Dean looked at Sam, smiling, "Are you always this good at making enemies?"

Sam looked up and shrugged, "I defended two people already, am I good at making enemies or securing possible allies?" With that, Sam walked down the hall to his next class.

Cass shook his head, "Not terribly talkative that one. My guess would be he's had it rough with people." Cass glanced at Dean and shrugged.

* * *

><p>When last period bell rang Dean could have jumped out of his skin. He was eager to see Sam again, never mind the fact that he'd be going home with him. True to his word, Sam hadn't come to school to make friends. Tristan and company avoided him and spread slandering rumours when Sam wasn't around –which was easy enough since he shared the same surname as Dean. Dean kind of felt bad for him, but Sam really didn't seem to care. Maybe when he was done having a permanent bad day he'd be willing to open up a bit...<p>

Sam waited for Dean by his locker, noticeably left alone by Tristan's group. Dean picked up the pace down the hall once he spotted Sam. He wondered about all the things they would talk about on the walk home, what the other students would say if they saw them leaving together. Sam watched Dean approach and, to Deans disappointment, started on his merry way, not even waiting for Dean to catch up.

While the students did talk, to Dean's dismay his fantasies of conversation were horribly misconceived. The walk to Sam's house was silent as could be, and Sam never slowed to a conversing pace.

They hit the streets with no trouble; Sam was fairly quiet as usual. His eyes straight ahead and his strides long, it didn't take long to reach his house. Sam fished for the key in his pocket and opened the door, "Dad's not home yet but you can wait here until he gets back." He walked inside the humble home. Everything was neatly packed though there wasn't much clutter. Neither of them were pack rats and both enjoyed a neat and tidy place, the fights over who left what mess were few and far between though they were heated when they occurred. Sam slipped out of his shoes, placing them nicely against the wall as he stepped inside onto the hardwood floor. There was a glass case off to the side that harboured several trophies and medals, most of which were military though some were from softball.

Originally Dean would have been overjoyed to spend some one-on-one time with Sam, but he was quickly realizing that he was fabricating an imaginary relationship with the teen, and the reality of it all was Dean didn't stand a chance with him. Waiting even ten minutes would feel like eternities. Dean loosened the laces on his hikers and kicked the boots off before straying further into the immaculate home.

While Sam disappeared into the kitchen, Dean wandered by the victory cabinet. All of the contents were older and aged, many of which were shining commendations from the war. Apparently John Winchester was a stand up corporal and well decorated. The perfectly pressed uniform remained framed within the cabinet. Dean wondered what kind of man he was to have such a rich background but evidently sour relationship with his son. A short self tour from entrance to living room showed Dean the same thing he'd seen in the Novak's home the night before: lack of a mother's touch. While everything was neat, simplistic, and minimalist, it lacked that added warmth. Not to mention there wasn't a flower in sight.

Sam had started brewing some coffee, then wandered into the living room and sat down on a decent leather couch though it looked a little older. These two obviously took care of their belongings. There weren't many pictures on the mantels, just three; one of John and a beautiful blonde woman much older than ten years, maybe even twenty years old. Another of John, this woman, and an infant, everyone looked pretty happy in that picture, the baby playing with something of a squeaky toy. The final picture was of John standing behind a younger Sam, John's half smile was even partially faded already and Sam just stared up at the camera like a good little soldier.

"Sit down," Sam was a little surprised when his offer came out more as a demand, "Please." He added to make himself feel like less of a jerk. At this point he had no questions he wanted to ask Dean so he sat quietly.

Dean wandered around the living room before catching sight of the lone pictures on the mantle. He quickly took Sam's offer to sit, but his eyes remained fixated.

Sam sat on the couch watching Dean's curiosity as his guest inspected the old pictures and basically everything in the house. Sam was already notoriously cold towards others, he wasn't too shocked that Dean hardly spoke but he had to wonder what kept Dean from speaking at all. The walk to his place was quiet but Sam had never said shut up or anything of the sort. Likewise when they got to the house, Sam hadn't said stay out of my hair until my dad gets back. He had little to say to start the conversations; it didn't mean he couldn't keep one going. He obviously received an invite to MENSA for some reason or another.

"Hey Sam, who's that woman in the photograph?"

Sam glanced at the picture and shrugged, "Dunno." He muttered quietly.

Dean already knew the answer, and he long recognized the beautiful blonde woman from old photographs at home. There was no mistaking his mother's face, but to find pictures of her in a stranger's home made no sense...

'_Actually, this makes too much sense.'_ Dean looked at the pictures a bit longer before turning to face Sam. It was rude to ask a question without eye contact. If Sam's father had these pictures –correction: if John Winchester had pictures of himself and Mary Winchester from 15 years ago the odds were pretty good that there was some relation here. Dean couldn't help but recall his mother's shocked expression when he told her about the Winchester's in town.

"She... looks really familiar." Dean looked Sam over, "Not a big people person, huh?" The silence was horrid, and Dean really hoped that something would get Sam talking. Something other than the way Dean's eyes strayed over the teen's well-developed features.

"Not much of a conversation starter." Sam added, not correcting.

"Yeah, me neither. I mean, this is me starting a conversation, and to be honest it's kind of lame. Like one of those last ditch efforts you pull out at a party, just to end the evening with punch on your face." Dean was pretty sure Sam understood what he was trying to say, and he was also sure that neither of them had been to a party or wore punch, but it got the point across.

Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair. He'd never really spoken to anyone about those pictures, though no one had ever asked him before. It was odd but most people don't care about others' old photos. "That woman couldn't possibly be familiar to you because she died when I was really little. Assumedly she's my mom." Sam glanced up at the picture again and furrowed his brow. So many times he'd sat in that very spot and wished she'd be the one alive instead of his dad, or maybe the child in her arms so he'd have some back up for once.

The realization had already been dawning on Dean, the puzzle was already half put together in his mind, but now with near solid confirmation the implications of finding his father were slowly sinking in. What had he done to make Mary leave? How awful a person was he to let his wife leave with his oldest son, and not give a damn if she ever came back? Mary fled _for her life_ to escape this man, and now here he was, living in the same damned town. No wonder she looked horrified at the news.

Dean looked at Sam in a new light: he had a younger brother. His mind started trying desperately to piece the timeline together, but he already knew the answer. When Mary left, taking Dean and what few possessions she could carry, she left Sam behind. Her little newborn was left with that monster of a man, probably rife with psychological trauma from the war. Why leave baby Sam with him? Dean already knew the answer to that as well; it was just a matter of asking himself the questions. How well off were they? Mary tried her hardest, every day, to keep food on the table, to keep a roof over their heads, and to keep –at least Dean, clothed. How would she have managed with another child?

"She and my older brother died in an accident 15 years ago." Sam sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "What exactly are you getting at?"

Just as Sam was going to push the conversation in a direction neither of them really wanted it to go, the phone rang. Sam stood without an effort and sauntered over to the ringing device, hitting the talk button as he picked it up. "Hello?"

The ringing phone was a welcome interruption to the impending revelation of information that Dean was fairly certain Sam didn't want to hear. Hell, Dean didn't even want to hear it. Even as he came to accept the fact that Sam was his brother, he couldn't help the growing longing that had been plaguing him since lying eyes on the teen. The way Sam stood, carried and composed himself were admirable; the strength in his shoulders and that perfect sway as he sauntered to the telephone were simply... wrong to be thinking about, now that Dean knew that this was his brother. Nevertheless, an aching feeling continued to lust after Sam.

A gruff voice replied to Sam's, "I taught you to answer better than a 'hello'."

"What do you want, dad? You couldn't have called just to check my answering habits."

Dean's eyes widened –it was John on the phone. _'What if he's home soon? I don't think I can talk to him,'_ Dean's mind raced and panicked. _'I was hoping that maybe he was a cousin of mom's, or a brother. I never expected him to be my dad.'_ Dean remembered all those times his mother would break down crying when Dean got angry, she always said in those moments that Dean reminded her of his dad. Dean clenched his fists, his own personal oath coming back to him. _'I'm not going to ask this fucker for help. I swore if I ever found him, I'd make him pay.'_ Dean's teeth ground together as he worked to control and funnel his rage.

"I'm calling to tell you that I'll be home late tonight."

"Not surprised. Work, alcohol, or sex?" Sam didn't skip a beat.

"Don't matter." And neither did John.

"Alcohol and sex it is then. You have someone waiting here to talk to you."

'_Alcohol and sex, huh? No wonder mom left. This guy's just a piece of work. I wonder who he's sleeping with?'_ Dean's eye twitched with the containment of rage swelling just beneath his skin. Every word he could make out of that telephone receiver fuelled the fire growing inside, and now Dean just couldn't wait for the man to walk in that door.

"What does he want?"

"To talk to you, I just said that." Sam's arms tensed as he spoke, his annoyance quickly becoming visible.

"Well tell him to come by tomorrow or something."

"He's here now; you go drinking tomorrow or something."

"If it's urgent you deal with it."

"Oh, you're trusting my judgement calls now. That's nice to hear. How about we _**move back home**_." Sam raised his voice that time.

"We've talked about this already, Sam. I'm not going to have that conversation with you again."

"Why can't you ever listen to me? Or think of me before you make a decision that changes both of our lives?"

"Good night."

Sam hung up first, "Fuck you." He muttered to the disconnected call. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing Dean heard most of that, Sam quickly looked back down at the phone in his hands. "He's not coming tonight..." Sam wasn't sure if he was pissed or depressed or what. All he knew was that a swirl of emotions was ready to explode in him and he needed to let it out before that happened. "God damn it!" He shouted, slamming the phone back onto its charger. He leaned over the table it sat on, placing his head against the wall and slowly lifting his hand he clenched and unclenched his fist. He'd broken his fair share of things thanks to John and not thinking before acting.

Only with Sam's bout of anger did Dean snap out of his own trance. Looking over at Sam, yet another depressing realization set in. Just how poorly did John treat Dean's little brother? The man already treated his wife like shit, chased her off and subsequently buried himself in decadence and booze. But he had a son to raise, a son who is evidently hurt and broken, angry and quite possibly scared, though Dean doubted Sam would admit to that. Right down to the avoidance of eye contact it was apparent to Dean that Sam was emotionally broken. Dean looked back at the last picture on the mantle –the good little soldier boy with a defeated ex-marine. A recipe for the Brady Bunch, for sure.

"Sorry..." Sam didn't turn back to look at Dean. Sam wasn't sure if it was because he was angry and didn't want to look at someone he thought might piss him off, or maybe because he was showing emotion and couldn't bear to let anyone else see it. Though both of those seemed plausible, he was mostly concerned that opening up to Dean now would create an unnecessary bond between them. Sam ran his hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and an attempt to keep his feelings in check.

He walked back to the couch and dropped into it again, his head resting in his hands so he wouldn't look up at Dean. It was always like this between him and his dad, always. He'd ask why, he'd get a 'because'. John would do things, like moving, without telling Sam anything. Sam was shouted at and scolded severely when he did something wrong though he was never told when he was approaching that invisible line. It was push and pull with John, never a gentle, guiding hand. Sam was raised in a sink or swim environment, in a situation where he was always wrong and no matter what he did he never made his dad proud of him.

As soon as Sam was back on that couch, Dean took the non-existent invitation. Dean slid in close to Sam so that their hips were touching. Dean placed a hand on Sam's back to comfort him, slowly rubbing gentle circles and working out some of the tension in his shoulders. Dean's other hand rested on Sam's knee, letting him know he was there for him. Responding this way to someone who was hurt was a natural response for Dean –he received this sort of attention from his mother every day. To Dean he felt like he was telling Sam that everything was going to be alright, that he shouldn't feel threatened by the world or anyone in it, and that this too shall pass. He was just shy of saying "I'm here for you," but that felt like that would be pushing it just a bit.

Sam noticed Dean closing in but didn't move to push him away; there was no point in it. He glanced at Dean a little but looked back at the floor. He'd never been comforted by someone before so it was shocking when Dean's hands came in on him. He flinched visibly and his head snapped down to eye the hand that had cupped his knee. His features twitched nervously but slowly started to relax. Sam took a moment to just feel the comforting touch he was receiving, it pushed and rubbed against him physically but emotionally it was as if there were a sledgehammer pounding against an iron door he'd put up. Or maybe his father had put up. He wasn't sure anymore. Whatever the case, he felt he could open, just a crack, to let that warm feeling inside.

"Most days..." Sam muttered, slowly lifting his head though he kept his gaze on the floor, "I'd never think about them, my mom and brother. It avoids unnecessary 'what ifs' that I don't need. But sometimes..." he looked up at the frame that showed the smiling faces of what looked like a happy couple, "I wonder what it'd be like if they didn't die. Or if he did instead." Sam sighed in frustration, running his hands up his face and through his hair, catching loose tears that tried to escape him. "I don't think about them because they're a reality I couldn't have, no matter how much I wished for it. If I wanted a mom to cut the crusts off my sandwiches... well too fucking bad because she's dead. If I wanted an older brother who'd stand by me when dad's being a dick I was shit out of luck again because it was just me."

He frowned and shook his head, looking at Dean this time, "If you've ever wondered what happens when an ex-marine -who lost the better half of his family- raises a kid alone; I'm the result."

"Everything looks greener on the other side." Dean continued the comforting circular motions on Sam's back, seeing how badly he seemed to need it. "The reality you could have had with them might well have been one of poverty. How would a single mother raise two kids? She'd hardly have the time for them while working three jobs. Or possibly one really well paying job, while she still had what it took to work it." Dean wondered if he was being vague enough, or if Sam would put it together. Either way, he knew he was playing with fire.

Sam's shoulders slumped a little, Dean made a good point. But wouldn't she have some kind of support? "No, you're wrong," Sam shook his head, "My dad, after the war or maybe before it even, he put a lot of money into life insurance. She would have been fine, all the help she would have needed to get on her feet." Sam nodded his head, the image he had of his mom in the back of his mind was one of warmth, comfort, and a very respectable woman. Someone he could run to when he needed it, ask for advice from when he was lost. Someone to look up to, sometimes he did this quite literally. Lately though he'd been thinking that she'd be the only face he'd want to see if his life were ended abruptly.

"But I get what you're saying. You feel pretty messed up, having him for a father, don't you? But would it be so hard to believe that maybe it's his fault he lost them?" Dean felt a little nervous about how Sam was going to react to him, when someone's upset, you don't comfort them by saying they're assumedly dead mother would have been a whore, and that their father deserved losing his wife in an accident.

"It wouldn't be hard to believe that she was trying to get away from him because of a fight or something..." Sam sighed, "I've entertained thoughts like that before; where she'd be arguing with him, he'd say or do something aggressive and stupid and she'd run out the door. My brother was probably watching and ran after her; she took him with and while driving she was hit or lost control... or something." Sam took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. He didn't want a stranger to watch him cry, especially one that he'd be going to school with for a year.

Dean quickly took his wallet out and pulled out an older picture of him and his mom, a picture that was old enough that Sam could easily see the resemblance in his own picture on the mantle, that the picture of Mary that Dean had was one and the same as the picture of Mary that smiled from the picture frame on the mantle. Sam stared at the picture that had been handed to him, her face was unmistakable. Figuring that Sam would've heard Mary's name from John before, he figured he'd try throwing it out there. "My mother's name is Mary Winchester. I don't know my father, but 15 years ago my mom took me and ran. She never looked back."

Sam's eyes widened, memories of him and his dad flooding back to him in waves.

"_Dad, who are these people? We have pictures but I've never seen them before." Sam, five years old, stared at the mantle with big curious eyes._

_"They're family, Sammy." John replied from the kitchen as he made lunch for the two of them. He strode into the living room and looked up at the pictures, his eyes darkening with an emotion Sam couldn't recognize though he imagined it was similar to being sad. _

"_Where are they?" He asked cautiously now, his father's unidentifiable expression starting to worry him some. He didn't like pushing subjects when he didn't know what his dad was going to do._

_John sighed and knelt down in front of son, watching those big eyes flicker back and forth between fear and curiosity. "They died," he managed to choke out. In that moment, lying to little Sam only made sense. He'd ask more questions like 'can I see them' or 'why'd they leave' if he'd been given the truth. "The woman," he took the picture down and pointed at her, "is Mary, your mom."_

"_Mom?" Sam placed a small, chubby hand onto the glass over Mary's image, "Why don't I have a mom?" He looked up at John, finally asking a question he'd been itching to ask since starting school. He'd seen so many other kids with their mothers, those moms all dropped their kids off and led them to the classroom the first day. John had left him at the door and drove off._

"_Because she's dead, Sam." John snapped._

_Sam flinched and cowered a little, moving slightly away from his dad. "Who's that?" he pointed at the little boy, the baby, "Is that me?"_

"_No." John stood up and put the picture back, "That's your older brother; he died with your mom."_

_Sam, a little unsure about the territory he was stepping into, pushed anyway. "What's his name?"_

"_Dean, his name was Dean."_

"_When are they coming home?" Sam's innocent question brought on the lecture he'd never forgotten, no son of John's would go into the world not knowing what dead was._

Sam, entirely lost in the new realization, reeled backward as if struck with a wrecking ball. He stood suddenly and spun around; his eyes focusing on Dean's and the older Winchester could see confusion and rage swirling in those eyes. Sam was stuck, either he believed a complete stranger that he'd been lied to and betrayed by his father, and that his mother had abandoned him. Or he trust a man who he knew would lie to him to keep him under his thumb and take it out on someone he was just starting to like.

The first person he ever liked.

Dean carefully watched the many emotions dance across Sam's face, amazed that the seemingly stoic teen could hold so much inside. The look in his eyes made Dean think that he'd somehow hurt Sam; and that he was going to pay for it. Sam's towering stance made Dean feel shorter than he already did around the younger Winchester, and that edge of rage just shy of the surface was an atmosphere-tensing element to beat all.

"Shut the hell up." Sam's voice came out quiet at first, the anger bubbling inside him. Dean Winchester sat in front of him now, what were the odds that a Dean Winchester, the exact age his older brother would be if he were alive, was living with a single mother, Mary Winchester? And would have a picture of Sam's mom of the same name? That wasn't a coincidence, that couldn't have been a lie. But every fibre in Sam's mind, every protective gear in his head told him not to believe it. Every survival instinct told him to get this man out of his house immediately. And so he did.

Dean had strained to hear Sam; the shaky words exiting Sam's mouth came out as barely a whisper if it weren't for the harsh hiss of rage that propelled them. "I'm sorry," Dean tried to back track. He thought he may have upset Sam, but he didn't want to. He wanted Sam to see the same connections that he saw, that there was a very undeniable reality between the two of them. Dean inched closer, hoping that maybe he could try and calm Sam down. "You're tense, and confused. That's ok, I get it-"

Sam didn't think any further beyond punching Dean in the face, sending him to the floor. "**GET OUT!**" He shouted, his broad shoulders seeming to grow as he stepped over Dean.

Dean squirmed on the floor, writhing in pain and shock. He couldn't believe Sam just hit him, he also couldn't believe how strong he was. Dean removed his hand from his face and caught sight of blood. This wasn't going well at all. Dean scrambled to get to his feet but just wasn't fast enough. Sputtering through what he assumed to be blood, Dean pleaded for reason, "Please Sam, calm down for a second."

Sam reached down and took a firm hold of Dean's shirt and hefted him into the air and put him on his feet. "**NOW!**" Not able to help the delayed stumble, Dean took a moment to balance himself, still trying to register the last few events as reality. When Dean didn't move instantly Sam punched him again, this time in the gut and toward the door. He stalked closer and opened the way to Dean's escape, grabbing Dean's shirt again and lifting him into the air as he stepped outside. With a strong thrust Sam threw Dean into the grass of his front lawn and pointed down the street, "Get the fuck off my property!"

Dean hit the lawn hard and rolled over twice before stopping face down. He groaned a pulled his knees in close. Turning his head to the side, he caught a glimpse of Sam's aggressive silhouette disappear behind the slamming door. Dean choked on the thick liquid in his throat and coughed the blood out onto the grass. With considerable effort he managed to pull himself up to his feet. "I didn't mean to make you mad..." Dean helplessly explained to the empty night air. He turned around and took his first few steps before pausing, "And he has my shoes."

Dean began his slow meander home, cursing himself for messing up so bad with Sam. "It's so freaking obvious that he's not a people person!" Dean slipped back into the storm of anger and hate he tried so hard to stave off only minutes ago, "He's so broken by that stupid '_father'_ of ours! I'll kill him!" Dean shouted out at no one, a promise of death shamelessly proclaimed so anyone could hear. John Winchester messed up in the past, sure. He mistreated his wife and couldn't keep his act together and lost her. That was then. But all this time he's been taking his misery out on Dean's little brother, the only friend Dean could have had all these years of social outcastry. And Sam was so hurt by it, he couldn't even function. _"It would've been better for him to live homeless with the love of a mother than have a roof over his head with a monster inside."_ That cinched it –Sam needed Dean's help.

* * *

><p>"Mom, I'm home." Dean didn't care if there were 'guests', he needed to talk with Mary. Dean looked around the entrance, no shoes. "Mom? Are you home?" Dean walked down the narrow hall and peered into the living room, then the kitchen. "MOM! Answer me!" Dean quickened his pace and opened the door to Mary's room –not a soul in sight. "Mom?" A few more minutes of looking in and around the house turned up the conclusion that Dean was home alone. No mom, no letter from mom, nothing.<p>

Dean sat down on the couch, running a hand over his head while trying to figure out what to do next. This wasn't right; she never left without letting him know that she'd be out. Dean thought about last night: he'd come home late from the Novak's after 'giving her space' and never said goodnight. Dean hadn't seen her that morning before school, but that wasn't unusual either. But then Dean never told her he'd be going out after school with Sam. He'd been gone too long, maybe she went out to look?

Sam's conversation over the phone with John came back in haunting tid bits, _"So alcohol and sex."_ Sex with who? "No," Dean tried to convince himself, "There's no way she'd hook up with him again. No way." Dean hung his head. "I need help." Rising quickly, Dean headed for the door. His socks were already horrendously dirty, so he discarded them, resolving to walk on grass when possible. Unfortunately, that wasn't very often.

Castiel wandered through the house, turning off all the lights as he passed through the rooms. It was a habit, or maybe it was an OCD thing, either way when he went to sleep he'd prefer everything off. There was just something about the buzzing of electricity that drove him insane at night. He turned off the last light in their household, and sighed as he opened the door to the church. He wasn't allowed to really shut everything down in there anymore, last time people grew upset thinking that the church wasn't open to them at any hour of the day. Cass believed that it shouldn't be, it was attached to their house and he felt nervous enough that people could break into houses normally, let alone if they were concealed within the church and all they had to do was break one door in.

He started singing to himself as he wandered into the church; it was his job to lock the doors and turn of certain lights. It calmed him down, "Go ahead, tell me you'll leave again. You'll just come back running, holding your scarred heart in hand. It's all the same. And I'll take you for who you are, if you'll take me for everything, and do it all over again..." All the Same by Sick Puppies, a band his father didn't approve of but then again, when did Father Jimmy approve of anything?

It was close to ten at night when Dean showed up on Castiel's front step, mouth and nose still bleeding, and his feet were scuffed and dirty and most notably bare. He rang the bell, hoping Cass would answer and not Pastor Jimmy.

_Diiiiiiiinnnng-doooooooonnnng._

Cass flinched at the sound of the rather loud bell ringing throughout the building. He hated they had it hooked up to ring in both living areas though it came in handy, someone rang their bell though could come and answer no matter where they were. Of course it was disconnected when church was in session.

Castiel ran back into his house and to the door, peeking out the peep hole. You never know what type of people will ring a preacher's bell after ten in the evening.

Dean's face came into view again and he flung the door open, not bothering with the hello this time.

"I need your help, I don't know where my mom is and I can't find her." Dean was in rough shape, but he hardly cared. His anxiety was growing by the second, and he didn't have the slightest idea of how he was going to resolve this.

"Oh my word, look at you!" Cass motioned to Dean's general appearance, "And where are your shoes!" He noted that Dean had been seriously bruised on his left cheek. "Your mom, right." Cass looked inside then back at Dean, "Okay come inside first," he insisted and pulled Dean into the living room to sit.

Dean found that the few times he'd come to see Cass, the preacher's son had a habit of not letting him change his mind. Both times now he was practically dragged into the house. Dean was too concerned over his mother's absence to remain aloof about anything, "Is there anything you can do? I don't know where to go."

"When was the last time you saw her? Does she have a phone maybe?" Cass shook his head; Dean would have covered these things long before he went to someone for help, especially the preacher's son. "Okay scratch that." Cass rubbed his chin and he couldn't help but wonder what Dean came to him for. What on earth could Castiel help with? "One second."

Even though Cass called off the answers to his questions, Dean's mind continued to answer them. _'No she doesn't have a phone... we don't even have a house phone –we don't have any money. Do you think she'd carry a cell phone if she couldn't afford to pay the rent? We're going to be kicked out, and if we can't find her, I'm going to be on my own. Mom, where are you?'_

Cass stood up and went to the phone, he reached over and grabbed a leather bound book and flipped it open. Within seconds he discovered a number and dialled. "Hello, Mr. Singer yes this is Castiel Novak calling. I was wondering if you've seen Mary Winchester recently... No, okay thank you. She's missing, please call me if you spot her. Thank you. Yes, I'll give him my regards." Cass hung up and sighed, scanning for another number. This general sequence of sentences occurred several times before Cass walked back over to Dean. "None of them have seen her though I have one more person I think can help us out here."

Castiel pulled out a cell phone, separate from the one Dean might've seen him use on other occasions. "She prefers personal calls," he stated, as if he needed to explain himself. "Hello, yes Castiel, remember? Oh you do, good. Well I'm calling because I could use your help again I'm afraid... Someone's missing and I'm at a loss." Cass paused and nodded a few times, "The church, yeah that dingy little house attached. Thank you Miss Talbot... But I feel better if I use formalities... Alright, alright, thank you Bela."

Cass hung up and sat down across from Dean, "She's good, really good. Finding your mom will be easy, okay? So calm down, it'll take my friend about twenty minutes to get here." Cass looked at the bruise his friend's face, "That happened recently, didn't it?" He stood up and went to the kitchen, returning swiftly with an ice pack. "Here," he handed it over gently, along with some pain killers, "That should help a little."

Dean's eyes shot up, out of surprise. He slowly took the ice pack from Cass, "Thanks." Dean took the advil and swallowed, holding the ice pack to his throbbing jaw.

Cass sat down again and looked at Dean's defeated posture. "You went to Sam's place after school, right? He did that, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did this. Did you know that Sam has a mean left hook? And an awful temper." Dean winced at the cold touch of the ice, but left it there.

Cass sighed and glanced down at his hands briefly, he'd only just become Dean's friend but he let him go to Sam's place while knowing how angry a person Sam really was. How dangerous. How could he call himself a friend? "I'm sorry, Dean." Cass looked up again, "For what it's worth, I'll do whatever I can to help."

Dean glanced at the pink tint on the ice pack, "You don't have any reason to apologize, Cass. Could you get me a damp cloth? This dried blood kind of sucks."

Cass smiled and stood, heading to retrieve a cloth for Dean's predicament, "I'm not apologizing because I feel responsible, Dean." He put the fabric under the tap for a second, "I'm sorry for your situation, I wish I could help more." He handed it over, sitting down again. "That should do."

Dean looked around the Novak's living room, wondering if the preacher was around. _'Maybe he went after my mom, so she wouldn't live here.'_ Dean found himself entertaining a multitude of horrific thoughts, obscene reasons why the preacher wouldn't be around or why his mother was dead in a ditch somewhere. "Do you think she's ok?" Dean turned his large brown eyes on Cass, hoping for some optimism in the depths of his acrid imagination.

Without hesitation Castiel nodded his head, "Yes, I'm sure she's fine Dean." He could tell that his friend needed some reassurance though Cass had no intentions of lying, "Your mother is strong, she would have put up a fight if someone tried to take her and if she went willingly then of course she's okay." Cass' smile betrayed no feelings of doubt or concern, it only showed confidence.

Eventually the awaited ringing of the doorbell sounded Bella's arrival. She let herself in, only using the bell as a formality. She'd had to walk in on something she shouldn't have. "Castiel, I'm here. Now who was it that needs finding?" Bella smiled at the preacher-to-be, knowing full well he didn't appreciate her breaking in. But with this kid she had to take extreme action to be noticed, he was just far too dense.

Cass stood when he heard the bell but stopped when the door opened on its own. He fidgeted a little but figured there was no point in making a fuss; he had invited her after all. "Dean's mother needs to be found, he hasn't seen her in the last two days. Though that may be because of bad timing on their parts, she would normally be home with clients at this time so he's concerned. Also, when she goes out its customary for her to leave him a note of some kind, which there was none of." Cass did his best to inform her of Dean's mother's occupation without really speaking aloud. He knew Dean wouldn't appreciate it, though it was true.

"Hm, and she never takes house calls?" Bella paced around the room, piecing together the bits and pieces.

"No, she doesn't." Dean answered as though the information he was giving was obvious and common. Like everyone has always known about the nuances of his family, they seemed to talk like they did.

"Alright, but there's someone new in town. Maybe she went to go meet with him, give her own impression before the rumours make one for her." Bella offered the suggestion in a cold and calculating way. She was here to solve a problem, not be a sensitive person. Dean had the preacher for that, he'd be fine.

Bella's explanation did more fixing than she knew. Dean's eyes widened, he knew John was his father, that they'd just moved to town. Two days ago he'd told Mary, and she knew right away who John and Sam were. John never came home, he was busy. Dean looked at Cass, "I don't know where she is, but I know who she's with. Sam's father. Now how do we find him?"

Bella shrugged, "Stake out his house. If anyone's coming home in one piece, it'll be him. But hey, maybe now that you know what's going on, you should leave well enough alone. There's a reason why your mom didn't leave you a note."

"Maybe you're right." Dean hung his head again. "Cass, can I sleep on your couch?"

Cass, having let the situation play out on its own since he'd offered all the info he had, looked a little surprised that Dean accepted Bella's first suggestion. "Wait, you're sure that your mother's with Sam's dad? Even though she would have left you a note if she'd gone to work?"

Dean realized from Cass' confused expression that he hadn't explained anything very well. All he told them was who she was with. Of course it seemed crazy, even careless to drop the subject. It sounded downright awful that he'd give up after finding out she was out with the new man in town. What Dean didn't say fixed the story: Mary was out with her husband, she was talking to Dean's father. She was probably hoping he'd help, and if that's what she wanted, then that was good enough for Dean. It meant that she hadn't given up yet, she wasn't sitting at home crying, she was still out there trying to make ends meet. It gave Dean strength to know that his mom was still strong. He smiled at Cass, "Yeah, I'm sure it's ok." He looked truly relieved.

Cass looked at Dean's tired, albeit calm, expression and sighed with a nod, what Dean needed now wasn't a hunt for his mother that might end with watching her work. He needed sleep, and lots of it.

"You can sleep in our guest room, Dean." Cass smiled then looked at Bella, "Thank you for your help," he looked around, "I'm not sure what I can offer you for it, if there is something let me know. I'll just show Dean to his room quickly."

Cass led Dean to a modest room with a decent bed, "My room's down the hall there, the bathroom's that door on the left... Yeah, if you need something just ask, okay? It isn't intruding, I promise." He smirked and pat Dean's shoulder, "Have a good night."

"Thanks," Dean looked around the small room. It was nice not to be on an old mattress on the floor, to have a working heating system. "I won't be bothering you, don't worry about that. I'm really sorry to bring all this to your door; you're probably done with all this. Thanks for everything; I'll be out of your hair first thing in the morning." Dean solemnly nodded his thank you and dropped himself into the bed, quickly falling to sleep.

Cass rolled his eyes dramatically as he closed the door; Dean still didn't get it. Oh well, patience is a virtue that Castiel had plenty of. He shrugged and wandered back to Bella.

"You know, I had to come quite a way to get here. Maybe you wouldn't mind putting me up for the night as well?" Bella was aware that Cass would flounder, try and explain that he only had one guest room, and Dean took it, and so on.

As expected Cass fidgeted and glanced over at the room he'd just shown Dean to. "I uh..."

She smiled and quickly added, "You also need to find a way to thank me for coming and helping on such short notice. How about we head up to your room, hm?" Truth be told, the last time she helped Cass out it was a much bigger deal than talking down a worried son over his mother, there was more danger... and bleeding. She'd found Cass to be different than most, and incredibly dense. She supposed that came with the role of preacher's son, and Cass played it well.

"Of course," Cass wasn't entirely sure he understood her or if that was his teenaged mind being over powered by hormones. Regardless it sounded like she wanted him to pay with sexual acts; he figured he must be mistaken so he agreed. "My room isn't exactly... the cleanest at the moment, if you'll excuse the mess then come this way." He led her to a dimly lit room that had several books and papers stacked on a desk (which was the only mess in sight).


	3. Chapter 3

_Earlier that day..._

Mary paced around the small trailer house, never once stopping to think that quitting was an option –not a real option. She did think about it, but only long enough to find a hundred reasons why she couldn't. Dean still needed her, he needed someone there in his life and thanks to her cowardice, her own weakness to not stand up to a man who possibly could have changed, she destroyed any semblance of normal life her son could have had. Who in this town would care for him? No one, not a single soul. Without Mary there Dean was no one, son of the filthy town whore. He had no friends, and they had no family. She couldn't just leave him, like she'd left John.

"What can I do?" Mary cried out to the small angel ornaments that adorned the walls of the beaten down trailer home. Tears flooded back to her eyes, though a hundred times before she'd wiped them away, and she'd just do it again. Helplessness was a stubborn thing. "There must be something, some way out..." _...a stubborn thing..._ Mary mulled it over again. What else was a stubborn emotion? What else held you back for no good reason, prevented you from stepping down and just asking? Pride is a stubborn thing.

Mary's expression grew stronger, determination filling her eyes. They were not going to live on the streets and Dean was not going to grow up to be a proficient grocery cart mechanic. Mary siphoned through her closet, sifting through all the old and slutty outfits, trying hard to find her Sunday best. "It's buried in here somewhere... aha, there it is." Mary pulled out a modest outfit of charcoal grey, matching skirt and jacket with a white ruffled blouse. With a matching barrette hat and stockings, she was set. She carefully painted her face, taking care to make her appearance perfect.

Her mind was racing and she slowed herself down, finding that she needed to work up the courage to ask for this. _'What if he says no? What if he doesn't care, or maybe he's angry... Well of course he'll be angry, but I can't let the possibility of no stop me now. In the very least it wasn't Dean's choice; maybe he'll take him back.'_

Mary picked up her purse on the way out the door, leaving it unlocked behind her. Missing items weren't as bad as broken windows. And Dean had forgotten his house keys again. Mary looked dismally at the set of keys on the entrance table top. "He probably didn't pack a lunch either." Mary smiled to herself, her son's inability to care for himself only encouraging her that what she was doing was out of necessity.

There was only one place in this town where a man like John would work to pass the day and that was at the shop. Garage monkeys and shop workers were Mary's typical clientele, and she wasn't particularly thrilled about walking out into their territory. Cat calls were mainstay, but she hoped that she would be less recognizable dressed down, in modest grey. Her head was low as he approached the shop, heading for the working bay rather than the front desk. It was fall, so the garage doors were open in an attempt to let in some cool air. Mary could hear the man shouting orders before she could see him.

"John..." she whispered, his bellows bringing back memories in flooding waves. The good, the bad, the depressing, and the exhilarating. But there was something in his voice that just sounded off... like he was hurt, and refused to heal. Like a wounded animal backed into a cave, snapping at the hands of those who wish to heal it. He never got over her leaving.

Mary walked into sight, looking squarely at John. "John Winchester," she called over the rumble of shop machines and bickering of employees. "John, I need to talk to you." Mary's tone bordered on pleading, but part of her refused to show weakness in front of this man –this conversation would be much more difficult that she anticipated. Mary looked at the clock –ten to five. The shop would be closing soon.

John flinched when he heard a familiar voice call out to him; he slowly turned to see a beautiful blonde woman. "Mary..." He had to wipe his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining her there, but each time he looked up she was still standing there, and she still needed to talk to him. Thoughts and emotions raced through him but he settled on a few words, "Meet me at the cafe over there, I'll be by in about ten minutes." He couldn't believe it was really her, if she wasn't there when he got around to the shop then he would know that he was definitely losing his mind.

Mary went on ahead while John cleaned up his work station. Finding the back booth of the coffee shop across the street from John's work, she waited patiently for him to join her. Part of her worried that he wouldn't come, that he just sent her away so he could sulk home in peace. But she knew that wasn't John, he was too stubborn and too prideful to run and hide. He'd come, if for no other reason than to ask her why. _'If that man hasn't figured out why by now, he'd never understand it.'_

Mary fumbled with her purse, nervously watching the clock. She still had time to back out. What if this was a bad idea? What if this was just a waste of time? She should be talking to everyone in town, asking for help. Just because she knew they'd say no... It was obvious she had to be here, it wasn't a coincidence that John moved to town just as the bank passed foreclosure. Mary clasped her hands together and prayed –a thank you for the god given help, and a request for strength. The angels gave her the opportunity, and she would be a fool to run.

John cleaned up and took a deep breath. This was probably going to be the weirdest few hours of his existence to date, but he couldn't run from it so off he went. Striding across the street he peered inside and caught sight of her, for some reason she had her head down in prayer and he had to wonder; how bad was he really? Thinking about the way Sam looked at him and how she had run in the first place, John concluded he must be some kind of monster.

Looking up, she realized how funny this was. She was dressed like she would any Sunday in the last fifteen years –modest and humble, the best she could manage. And somehow she knew that John gave up on the church years ago, and looked just like this: dirty, grubby, and grouchy.

"I'm probably too late to warn you, but if you keep making faces like that a trick wind will come by..." She smiled, trying to remain light hearted. She expected to be met with a frown and a grunt, but what could she do.

John paused and realized that his neutral expression was fairly unattractive to anyone approaching him. Hell, it was probably the reason most people didn't. Based on that thought, John didn't argue with her and only shrugged. Again, he had to reflect on Sam's attitude and realized that what he'd just done was something that pissed him off about Sam; answering a question with a gesture the other person might not see.

"It's been a while..." The failures of small talk start to sink in, and she feels like she should just cut to the point already. Her head is hung low, not sure how he'll take this, "John, we need a place to stay. The bank is going to take our home, and I've already tried everything. We need to be moved out tomorrow..." Mary looked up from her hands to John's dark sunken eyes, her own begin to water as desperation takes hold, "Please! We have nowhere to go."

Though John intended to try for small conversations before letting the big stuff come out, he'd been silent too long and she stopped beating around the bush.

John's eyes couldn't be wider; he swallowed hard and folded his hands on the table, his gaze mostly fixated on his thumbs. "Mary..." He spoke softly, trying to find the words. For years he'd cursed himself for letting her go, for not catching his actions and insensitivities earlier. He scared her away and there wasn't a day that went by where he wished he could take it back, where he begged a higher power for a second chance. Even though he stopped going to church he never stopped praying, he knew what happened was a lesson and he deserved it. But how could he relay this to Mary?

"I... I don't know how to say this." He looked up at her and saw the familiar sight of her wet eyes, a sharp pain striking him hard. "You don't need to say please with me, never. I am..." he swallowed his pride, the way he swore he would every night before bed, "I am so sorry, Mary. If you can forgive me, please move back in with me, with Sam." He reached across the table and took her hands in his, "I miss you, we both need you."

In as little as three disconjoined sentences John had managed to turn Mary's whole world upside down. Coming into this she felt like the one who was wrong, that before John would yield she would have to apologize and explain herself. She was so afraid and so anxious that John would say no, would turn and laugh at her, remind her that she brought it all on herself when she made the choice to leave. All of these nightmares vanished into smoke when Mary saw the broken expression on John's face. The way he phrased it flipped the situation on its head: Allowing them to move in with him wouldn't be an act of kindness for an ex-wife, asking her to move in would be the start of repairing a broken relationship. _If [x], then [y]_ where x is forgiveness and y is shelter and safety.

John wasn't sure how he could tell Sam that he was speaking with a woman he'd long told Sam was dead, or how he'd explain any of it when they moved in. Whatever the case, he was thankful for the second chance he'd just been given. "Before you do, though..." John laughed a little bit, "I have some explaining to do." The first step was telling Mary what he'd told Sam, then he could tell Sam. The thought of it almost frightened John, almost. "I just gotta call Sam first, he's expecting me home."

Mary nodded her head, too choked up to vocalize a 'thank you.' Her eyes were brimming with tears that she desperately tried to fight off. She smiled at John, an authentic smile full of appreciation and gratefulness, and even a wary tint of affection. "Ok," she laughed at John's explanation of her death; he would always find the most difficult route for himself rather than just explain the truth. "Call Sam."

"I'm calling to tell you that I'll be home late tonight... Don't matter... What does he want?... Well tell him to come by tomorrow or something... If it's urgent you deal with it... We've talked about this already, Sam. I'm not going to have that conversation with you again. Good night." John winced when he heard Sam's end click first. "He's mad," John glanced at Mary, "School must not have gone well." John put the phone away and leaned over the table again, "Alright, first I want to know how much you usually spend in groceries. I imagine not much," he glanced at how mal-nourished she looked.

Mary knew a failed conversation when she heard one, and was quickly gathering that John had many relationship issues. He was happy, she could see that he was happy, but despite that he sounded like the world took a cheap shot at him and it was all Sam's fault. "Wait, before we talk about that, do you know how you talk to Sam? Do you know how that sounded? He didn't just have a bad day, John. If there's someone there, and he called you, don't you think maybe he was looking to you for advice? Or help? You have a lot of learning to do." Mary knew that coming to John would mean putting herself in danger, and while he felt bad for her now, he rarely felt remorse for actions he was too stubborn to question as right. Teaching John anything would be next to impossible.

John paused and nodded. He wanted to say 'I called him!' but knew it'd be a childish thing to do, plus it didn't excuse the way he pointedly avoided help Sam in any way. "I know." He just nodded his head again, "Sam is... difficult." He fumbled his thumbs together, "Has been since he turned 10. I don't know what it is but he refused to listen to me out right and started pushing back. Maybe I just suck at fathering." He didn't honestly believe that to be a 'maybe', he knew it was a fact but what could he do now? After 16 years of trying to raise that kid? All he knew to do was get a mother figure back in the picture, Mary was the only one he'd accept at this point.

Judging from the way the guys talked about her after she'd gone, John figured he knew what she did for money. "You're quitting your job, by the way." John didn't take his eyes off her now, "I'm not trying to control your life but you only had to do that because of me. Now that I'm here you can stop," he nodded his head slowly, fighting back tears. What kind of man was so awful his wife would rather sell her body than stay with him? "Please, Mary. Please don't do that to yourself anymore." John wanted to ask about Dean too but he figured it best to stick to the conversations about Mary for now.

John's forwardness about her job both surprised and upset her, how was it any of his business? She took a deep breath, reminding herself that it was not only everyone's business; it was John's as well. She left him out of fear, and never came back. She didn't have the money for divorce papers or to change her name back to Campbell; if John's _wife_ was a prostitute, then it was definitely his business. If only she'd gone through with the divorce, maybe then she would have at least been able to force him to pay child support. Too little too late.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she nodded in agreement. "Alright, I quit." She knew John wasn't trying to run her life –he was trying to protect her, in his own way. Few people could recognize how John really felt through his impossible emotional wall. Despite her fine dress, immaculate make-up, and upright posture, she knew John could see the darker side; he had a certain... _talent_ for that sort of thing. Her pains were as clear to him as the sky is blue, and she could only imagine what kind of picture he was piecing together for what his son might be like.

"You're lucky I know you, or remember certain quirks anyway. You're just as difficult as I remember you being." _Possibly more cynical_. "Thank you, John. You have no idea how much we need this."

John, fairly surprised that Mary agreed to his condition so easily, smirked a little. "I'm probably more difficult now than ever, I'm not sure who started it but Sam and I have been pushing one another to the edge for years now. Everything we say to one another has to be carefully thought out otherwise the other will read into it wrong. I don't win."

He wanted to say 'you're welcome' but of course he couldn't find the simplest words. "Thank _you _Mary." He smiled sadly to himself, "You have no idea how much _we_ need this." John copied her words to make a point, though he was pretty sure she could see that Sam and John had a stressed relationship at best.

"So," John decided to make an attempt at not just small talk but catching up with his wife, "Let's exchange some stories here. I don't know Dean and you don't know Sam. What're Dean's grades like? Is he into sports or any physical activity? Friends?" John figured he'd start smallish, trying to get a feel for his oldest son's character before meeting him. John was pretty excited now, he was going to get the chance to try and make it up to his sons, granted he knew it was going to be tough as nails.

"You want to know about Dean?" Mary laughed, not a sad laugh but a scoff, tinged with disbelief. "John, we need your help, and we are both aware that we are out of our comfort zones. You're strained, and trying, and I really appreciate that but..." Mary trailed off, wondering how she could say this without sending her estranged husband into a fit of rage. "Dean's old enough to choose whether or not he wants to know you. Personally, I'm scared to let you near my son. But it's his choice." Mary bit her bottom lip, hoping John would be more hurt than angry. He was the one person in her life she'd rather see hurt than angry; partially because she was mad at him, and part of it was due to the fact that his temper was a terrifying thing.

John slowly nodded his head as Mary came fairly close to shutting him down. He deserved every bit of that, though he wished she wouldn't rub it in so much. "I ain't gonna hurt the boy, if that's what you're thinking." He was far from angry though people who were afraid of him rarely took his tone that way. Mary was pretty good at shooting down any good mood he tried to set, several times now. Maybe it was the way he said it? The words he chose or tone of voice? Or both? He sighed and dropped his head, even though he was asking her questions about Dean she seemed fairly closed off, not wanting John to get even the tiniest bit closer.

She figured that she could at least give him some pointers, "Dean is... well, I can't say I didn't baby him. At the same time I made him grow up too fast. I don't know how he's doing really, you know, up here," Mary made a pointing motion to her head. "He's instinctively a lot like you: prideful, protective, and you should've seen his temper. But I've worked on that. He keeps his aggression in check, really really well. And though I can see it's a conscious effort sometimes, he doesn't have much pride at all." The line was blurred between being prideful and taking pride in yourself, little did Mary know the consequence of this.

John had lifted his head to listen, hoping Dean was better off than Sam. "Instinctively like me, huh?" He shook his head, "Well if you taught him maybe I have a chance here." He scratched his jaw for a moment, "No pride? In anything?" John felt something was amiss there but he figured he'd touch on that later, better not question her parenting skills in a moment like this. She had a talent for taking it the wrong way, after all.

"His grades are poor, and he has no friends. I don't believe I've ever seen him date someone either. Sports would be too much for him, team interactions and all. He only goes to school for the classes and leaves as soon as possible. He has a few hobbies at home, and tinkers with things he's found at the scrap yard..." Mary notices John's expression lingering on Dean's lack of social anything. No sports, no friends, it all makes him out to sound very much like a failed, broken person. "He goes for a lot of runs, and exercises a lot. He keeps active."

John visibly winced, despite the fact that Dean was physically active. No social connections meant that Dean was no more better off than Sam, hell Sam even had friends back in their old town. Instead of dwelling on the fact that both John and Mary Winchester sucked at raising the boys alone, he decided to try and comment on something more positive. "Well at least he has a healthy hobby or two. Tinkering as in just fiddling? Maybe he'd like to learn some mechanics..." John trailed off, his mind coming up with ways to spend time with Dean.

Mary figured she'd try something else, turn it around a bit, "And how's Sam? You guys fight a lot, and I'm guessing you were pretty hard on him growing up. Is he taking the move well?"

"Sam..." John leaned back and ran his hand up his forehead, "Ohhhh Sam... Well I'll start by answering the same questions I asked you; First, Sam's grades are amazing. He's only 16 but he's in his graduating year, MENSA even offered him a place among them. He declined, but it's pretty cool." John smiled, "He's in top physical condition, strong as an ox that boy. He's not too good with teams either so he never played any sports, though he did have friends. At least before we moved."

"And I guess that brings me to your question. He didn't want to move, especially not in his last year of high school but I was offered to be a shop owner here, that kind of deal doesn't come around every day. Hell, it never comes around so I said yes without consulting him. He's pretty bitter about it." John fidgeted again; it was tough to come clean about how you've raised your son, especially since you know you did it poorly. "We always fight, that's the first thing you'll notice. I've never really hit him..." he trailed off again and sighed, "Okay, last year we got into a fight over something and he took a swing at me first. Looking at it now I couldn't tell you why I hit back, probably a pride thing. It was once," he tapped his jaw, "right here. He didn't take it too well. I won the argument and he hasn't tried getting physical again but it's probably only a matter of time. He's already got a few inches on me in height."

John sighed and scratched his head nervously, "The boy hates me, and I don't blame him. I've been a drill sergeant more than a father I think. I raised him cold, ready for the world as I saw it. That's not how a kid's supposed to see it but I'm an idiot." He hoped she wouldn't think he was pointing a finger at her because he knew she left for the same reasons Sam hated him.

"So when you two moving in? We can get your stuff tomorrow if you wanted." He knew that not telling Sam again was a bad idea but hell, Mary would be present so maybe Sam wouldn't try to fight him. Maybe.

"They're taking the house tomorrow after business hours, so if we wanted to keep what few possessions we have, I figure tomorrow while the boys are at school would be the best time to move in. Is that alright?" Mary smiled, trying to lighten up. She recognized that John was trying, he really was. But it was hard to just walk back to him, after 15 years apart, and they would probably never bring up why, not directly. It put Mary on edge, made her anxious and pensive. She didn't mean to shut him down at every turn, and she really wanted it to work out, but deep down she was scared of letting him have control.

Mary gave John her address, "You'll be able to meet me tomorrow morning? I know I'm asking you to take time off work for this, and I'm sorry about that." Mary looked down at her lap, then back up at John, "Is there any way I can repay you? Anything at all?"

John nodded, "Tomorrow morning it is," He smiled looking at the address written down on a napkin. It was just like when they were younger, meeting for the first time he'd asked her for her number. Instead, since he'd probably get her father on the phone, she gave him an address to pick her up at that night around 7. It was a long time ago but still a good time.

"You can repay me by not asking me that question anymore," he laughed a little, getting out of the booth. He wanted to tell her that he felt bad when she looked at him like he were no better than the other men she'd worked with, but figured that'd be another bad idea. "I'm getting better at this 'keeping my mouth shut' thing." He grinned and shrugged, "Well anyway it's late, I'll drop you off at home. Dean's probably worried."


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 3**

Sam sat up from his restless sleep and clicked the button on his alarm, just like he'd done every morning before school. The next motions of his routine were just that; routine. Go to the bathroom, use the facilities, clean up, brush teeth, shave if needed, wander back to room and get dressed. All of that was done without any required thought, as soon as Sam walked into the living room and turned on the news his eyes couldn't help but drift past the family photos on the mantle.

Sam cringed when an image of Dean's face crossed his mind, that look like he'd just met a long lost brother. Those eyes that were so similar to his own, the jaw-line that was unmistakably Winchester, and having the same mother named Mary? Those pictures? How could Sam have denied it? How could he have rejected Dean so harshly.

Sam remembered hearing those names at least once before, Dean and Mary Winchester, his mother who died in an accident with his older brother... His mother who ran away with his older brother? Why would she run away? And even if John was the answer to that, why hadn't she taken him with her? Sam thought about it over and over as he packed his lunch and started out the door for school. Dean was his older brother, the boy he'd wished could have been there to back him up on so many occasions, someone who could have been his best friend all these years. And now suddenly he was alive. How did it make any sense to push him away?

"I'm such an idiot..." Sam started running down the street, hoping Dean would show up to class that day.

* * *

><p>"Rise and shine," Castiel's voice called into Dean's room softly and melodiously, a stark contrast to what his father was about to do, frowning and dumping the cold water down a drain. "We have school today," Cass wandered to Dean's side and nudged him gently.<p>

Dean groaned a groggy wake up into his pillow. He felt the gentle nudging at his side and instinctively rolled over, grabbing Cass' arm and hugging it tight to his chest. "It's ok..." Dean murmured into his pillow, as though he were reassuring someone. He flinched a little at the mention of school. "Wait, 'we'?" Dean fluttered his eyes open and took a few moments to look at Cass. "Oh, sorry." Dean let go of Cass' arm and sat up, stretching and yawning –who said he couldn't multi-task?

Cass smiled at Dean's tired movements, knowing full well who his guest thought was waking him. Dean was too cute sometimes, which was odd for Castiel to think so he shoved the thought from his mind. Tough guys don't like to be called cute; Cass already knew this one first hand. Not that he was a tough guy but that he'd called one cute before and it hadn't ended well. "Yes, we. And it's no trouble." He pat Dean's shoulder before trotting out the door.

Once Dean was out of bed and at the table Cass served the three of them breakfast though father Novak had little time to stay and chat, there were people in the church for some kind of meeting and he had to be present. Cass didn't argue when his father walked out, shovelling the food into his mouth and dumping the rest. Cass preferred to be alone with Dean than with Jimmy present any time.

Timing was Hollywood-perfect when Jimmy exited the room as Bella entered, towelling off her hair while semi-drowning in a man's house coat. "Good morning Cass," she walked by, planting a kiss on the back of his head, in his soft black hair. "I hope you slept as well as I did, although I do recall waking up with all the covers. Dreadfully sorry about that."

Cass blushed at the feel of the Bella's lips in his hair, "Good morning." He returned the greeting with a smile, last night he'd gotten past his own density and realized what she was after with him. "Don't worry about the covers, I hardly noticed," he attempted to reassure her though he recalled being fairly cold when he woke up.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked from Bella to Cass. He never did know what time she left –apparently she hadn't. Jimmy would've thrown a fit if he'd known a woman shared his son's bed in his home. Dean decided not to say a word on the matter.

As Dean finished eating Cass quickly packed lunches for them and handed him a pair of shoes, "We have the same shoe size so you can borrow mine for the day." He explained, clean socks neatly rolled inside for use.

"You boys have fun at school then," Bella smiled and waved. "I'll be long gone by the time you get back." She winked at Cass, "Call me sometime."

Cass was surprised how disappointed his was, knowing she'd be gone when he returned though he was good at not displaying such emotions. "Of course," he tried to force the blush off his cheeks though it was nearly impossible, "I will, definitely." He was far from lying, calling her sometime meant soon, as in later that night maybe. Depending on how today goes.

Dean smirked as he laced up his borrowed shoes, "So, mind telling me what that was all about, my new friend?" Cass was blushing and Dean was laughing. It was a good morning.

"I made a discovery last night," Cass tried to shrug nonchalantly, "That's all." It was more than that, of course. He'd actually made several discoveries, the first being that Bella liked him as more than a friend. The second being that he was missing out with the whole 'no sex' thing. Not to mention he really enjoyed Dean calling him 'new friend', it was an accomplishment.

"And thanks again for everything; I really needed you last night. And thanks for the shoes, ...and the lunch. I have a lot to be grateful for, huh?" Dean kind of laughed at that, two days ago school was a lonesome hell, and now it didn't seem so bad... except Sam would be there. Dean pushed the thought from his mind, maybe he wouldn't even talk to him... _'I really hope he talks to me again.'_

Cass smiled up at him, "I'm glad to help, Dean. You're very welcome." He chuckled, "Everyone has a lot to be grateful for, you're just noticing more things this morning because it's someone unrelated to you that's doing you a kindness. Personally, I'm grateful that you came to me for help, it let me prove to you that I'm not full of shit like some people we know might be." He referred to, of course, the general high school population.

The walk to school was hardly silent, Castiel figured Dean needed someone to talk to and after yesterday probably needed it now more than ever. He tried to keep a conversation rolling no matter what it was, though he intended to keep it on the positive side.

Dean was more than appreciative of Cass' doubled efforts on conversation; not thinking about Sam was hard. It was an entirely new experience for Dean, having a friend to walk to school with, to talk about stuff that didn't matter.

As they approached the school Cass spotted Sam's rather intimidating form running up the opposite sidewalk. He tried to keep Dean from seeing the younger Winchester but Sam seemed intent on getting their attention.

"Dean!" Sam sounded out of breath, as if he'd run the entire way from his house, which he had. "Dean wait!" His tone had no hint anger and if Cass didn't know any better he could have sworn there was some form of regret in there too.

Dean flinched, he knew that voice, hell he'd dreamt that voice last night. And just like the dream, Sam wasn't angry with him. Dean wondered if he was still sleeping. "Sam?" Dean looked around, despite Cass' feeble attempts to retain his attention –the preacher's son really didn't know how badly Dean wanted to see Sam again, and in what ways he wanted to see him. Dean spotted his brother jogging down the street; it was impressive how fit the guy really was.

Sam slowed to a jog then a brisk walk until he reached them, his hand reaching into his bag, "First, I brought your shoes." He pulled out a plastic bag from his duffle, "And second..." he made sure to make eye contact for this one, "I'm really sorry about yesterday." He glanced at Cass and then the other curious faces on the grounds, "Can... can we talk?"

Dean's heart skipped a beat: Sam was sorry. Not only was Sam sorry, he was desperately sorry. His eyes were wild with emotion, those green orbs staring back at Dean, hoping for resolution. Dean took his shoes, still surprised. He was about to agree, _eagerly_ go and have a private talk with Sam, but Cass wouldn't have it.

Cass looked at the bruise on Dean's face then back at Sam, "Alone? I don't think so."

Cass' gaze reminded Dean of his beating the night before. He raised a hand to his still semi swollen jaw, which was probably good and discoloured by now. Sam said he was sorry, and he sounded sincere. "Cass, it's really ok..."

Sam's eyes shifted to Cass' rather defensive expression and turned back to Dean, "Okay I deserve that." He admitted, "Please? I shouldn't have reacted the way I did... It was just..."

Dean looked at Sam, who was struggling to find words, to keep talking despite what would be uncomfortable exposure –Sam wasn't familiar with his own emotions, never mind showing the world he had them. The fact that he'd continued to try and talk to Dean this long was a surprise to the older Winchester. To save Sam further stammering, Dean interrupted. He moved forward quickly, wrapping his arms around Sam in a somewhat clingy hug. "Can we talk about this somewhere else?" Dean lifted his cheek from Sam's chest and looked up into his eyes, hoping they could go.

Sam couldn't hide the surprise in his face when Dean not only made physical contact but hugged him as well. Even after the way Sam had treated him yesterday, Dean was still willing to get that close? To talk alone with him? Sam was touched and nodded, "Somewhere else sounds good."

Dean wasn't sure if he was at all surprised to find that under that baggy jacket Sam was a solid piece of meat. The conversation went on, and he found that even though he was the one who stopped the hug, he felt cheated. He wanted more time, longer contact against that perfect body... but he'd already decided that this was a battle for another day. Besides, it would require all of Dean's attention to unravel Sam's convoluted apology.

Dean looked at Cass, "Thanks, but I'll be ok. I'll see you in class."

Cass' face scrunched a little but he let it go and nodded solemnly. If Dean wanted to do this then Cass couldn't stop him, though he really wanted to. He couldn't understand what information he was missing here and really hoped it'd get clearer soon.

Dean took Sam's hand and walked down the side walk, away from the prying eyes of classmates. Finding a park bench down the street, Dean sat down, motioning for Sam to do the same. "So you're sorry about last night? What changed your mind?" Dean played with the strings on his sweater; he just had to do something with his hands. Sam's change of heart was promising, but he still made Dean nervous.

Dean realized that his problems were becoming more plentiful by the day. Losing the house was still on the list. Convincing his brother that they were family without getting beat up also on the list. And now Dean found himself in the precarious position of fighting off feelings of lust and attraction for what he knows is family. They weren't raised together, but blood is still blood. Trying to convince Sam of something more than a brotherly relationship now would be asking for another beating.

"A lot of things," Sam folded his hands together and looked down at them for a moment, "At first I thought you were lying... well, I knew you weren't but I didn't want to believe it, so I got mad." He sighed and glanced at Dean's cheek, "I had time to think it over last night and I know you're right. I know my dad lied to me, you're my brother. There is no denying it at this point; it doesn't make sense to... I changed my mind because since I heard that you had existed, when I was little, I had always pictured what it'd be like to have you around. Now I know you're around, so how would it make any sense for me to push you away? I never decided I didn't want a brother, I just didn't expect to get one, you know?"

"A couple things their champ, now the brute will be referred to as 'our' father," Dean cracked a smile, figuring taking a cheap shot at John might earn him a few points with his newly discovered brother. "So basically I'm to understand that I messed with your sense of reality simply by existing, and you got mad about it?" Dean raised an eyebrow with the inflection, piecing it together but he would've been just as well off not knowing why Sam changed his mind. The point was he did. Dean didn't care why, and paying attention to the answer would've been a waste of time...

Sam looked over at Dean and shrugged, "Sorry, 'our' dad." He wanted to add 'don't call me champ' but figured that the unimpressed expression he wore would tell his story for him. "It's hard to explain, Dean. I didn't want to believe that dad would lie like that to me, for so long, so I didn't believe it. This meant, if you weren't my brother, you basically mocked the fact that I have a dead mom and sibling. Obviously that wasn't the case but in that moment that's how I took it."

Paying attention to Sam's words was difficult when trying to avoid checking him out, scanning his perfect shoulders, slightly stooped with shame and regret. That strong jaw line, twitching ever so slightly as Sam tried to form words for the things he felt and wished to express. Those military regime arms, no doubt thanks to their father. Dean's eyes lingered on Sam's lap, curiosity playing games with his imagination. Dean pulled his eyes back up to meet Sam's –they were making real progress, and there was no reason why Dean shouldn't respect that.

Sam glanced at Dean and noted the lingering gazes for the first time. He sat up for a second and frowned, "Are you paying attention?"

'_Aw crap,'_ Dean made sure to keep his eyes locked with Sam's, no longer straying to body parts he shouldn't be looking at, or thinking about, or imagining the taste of... "Yeah, yeah, I'm totally paying attention. Don't even worry about it."

Sam felt the urge to get angry again though the rage didn't come, curiosity rose in its stead. He caught himself distracted similar to the way Dean was. Sam knew what Dean was looking at and knew the meaning behind gazes like the ones he'd been receiving from his older brother. Yet he didn't care, maybe it was because he hated his dad and knew that John would disapprove. Maybe he was sick in the head and that sort of thing turned him on. That thought didn't surprise him, not now anyway. As soon as he figured out Dean was family he'd suddenly been perfectly fine with Dean's fantasies about him.

Dean tried hard not to flinch at the thought of Sam's rising anger, but that never came. The tone was there, but it fell away. Dean found keeping eye contact was an impossibility with Sam's own eyes now wandering. Dean's brow furrowed, confusion taking hold. Just what exactly was going on here?

Sam fidgeted, something he rarely did. "Dean, what do you think of all this? The family thing... You and me... Mom and dad and what they told us..."He glanced at Dean's lap then back up into his brother's eyes, "This attraction." Sam knew that if it wasn't spoken aloud neither of them would act on it, considering they both knew they were brothers.

Dean wanted to start in order, get all of the details out of the way, but that half lidded gaze that Sammy placed on him, trailed up from his aching privates to make eye contact, would not allow it. Sam was doing it too, he was looking, thinking, fantasizing, and best of all he was doing it knowing full well the relation between them. No secrets, no potential derailment. The fact that Sam was so deliberately forward with it left Dean reeling, trying to find the words to answer what was otherwise an honest question.

"You're feeling it too, huh? That pull. It's... hard to resist. Honestly?" Dean fidgeted too, probably more proof they were related, back to playing with his hoodie's drawstring. "My biggest concern was you. How you would take to my... well, you snapped when you found out we were brothers so I dunno. I wanted you to be ok with me, and the idea of an 'us.' I want so much more from you than I should ever even think about. Sam," Dean looked back up at him, knowing full well that avoiding eye contact would only piss him off. Dean was no coward, and from Sam's remarks the other day, he appreciated forwardness. "Sam, I want to fuck you so bad it hurts. I want to feel you under my skin, smell your brand of musk and taste every inch of you while savouring every second. What I think about this attraction is pretty carnal and very detailed." Dean swallowed hard, and waited for judgment.

Dean was certainly forward with his feelings on the idea of them 'together', though part of Sam wanted to ask about the rest again he decided he could do it later. He took a moment to decide what he wanted to say then nodded when he figured it out. "I'm okay with that." He wanted to start by subsiding Dean's fears. "Though you know I can be quite the ogre already, you sure about this?" Sam refused to feel the ache that started to form in his groin; he had a problem with getting his hopes up and having them dashed.

Dean smiled, Sam was actually checking with him about moving forward. _'Didn't I just say that I wanted this?'_ It was a comforting thought that Sam might be doing it out of concern for Dean, but Dean quickly figured out that this wasn't the case: Sam was stalling, hesitating. '_It has to be something like that, maybe he's nervous? Worried it won't work out, that we're taking unnecessary risks... he seems like the type to think like that. Maybe.'_ Sam seemed to realize how Dean was responding to those questions, Dean's thoughts were practically words in an open book.

In that moment Sam realized that he was beating around the bush, something he hated. In order to avoid hypocrisy and be forward, Sam leaned over and planted a kiss on Dean's lips, pressing hard into it. To further make his point, Sam's tongue, strong and slick, slid past Dean's teeth and adventured about the crevices of his mouth.

At first Dean was pleasantly surprised, Sam's lips on his was an amazingly sensual experience. But Sam was far from gentle; Dean was quickly realizing that Sam must have some kind of aggressive personality disorder. Dean pushed back, the last thing he needed was to be completely overwhelmed by his _little_ brother. He didn't want the kiss to end, and did his utmost to keep their battle of the tongues going. Tasting Sam in his mouth was just another straw to count down. Dean's body ached with desire, and he started to push Sam back on the bench, ready to climb onto him.

Sam broke the kiss and looked into Dean's eyes, "If you're willing then I vote we give it a shot," He smiled, what did he have to lose? He didn't have any friends here yet and neither did Dean it. John would be furious which only made Sam want to do it more, he had no idea what Mary would say but if she'd be mad then all the better. She abandoned him to live with and be raised by John, it was enough for Sam to be angry with her, at least until he understood her reasoning.

Dean's eyes opened to half mast, looking deep into Sam's strong green gaze. The restatement was almost lost on Dean; his language processing regions of the brain were currently misfiring due to lack of oxygen. "This is you being assertively certain," Dean surmised aloud, "Gotcha. And I think if I can spill my guts about this _and_ drop an 'us' in there, I'm pretty certain I'm willing." Dean chuckled a bit, "But you know, just to be sure..." He trailed off, eyeing Sam's upper torso, licking his lips for added emphasis.

Sam had mentally covered the social bases of why he shouldn't do it and they were negated. All that was left was a reason why he should, which was easy to find since he was not only curious about homosexuality and incest, he also found Dean to be a pretty interesting person to talk to and fairly attractive. Not just fairly though, it was enough for Sam to consider being gay in the first place.

Sam paused, the thought he just had made him think even further. If his reasons for wanting to fuck Dean started at 'Dean's an interesting person to talk with', this obviously went further than a physical attraction. "I want to do this," Sam reassured, his tone much different than Dean had heard the first day of school. It was softer and much more welcoming; probably close to the way he spoke to old friends back in his old hometown. "But I'd like to make it more than just a random roll in the hay. If you don't agree then we won't do it at all," he figured it was only fair to warn Dean of what he was thinking. "I like you, more than just physically and I want to know you better." He was trying very hard not to sound demanding and monotone, though it was his default when he tried to make a deal with someone.

Dean frowned a bit; playful to crashing halt just may be a recurring phenomenon between him and his brother. "You know something; I think you're way too used to getting what you want. Or maybe you have to fight for everything you want." Dean moved backwards a bit, their proximity wasn't exactly optimal for the sort of discussion that was brewing.

Sam frowned; he was starting to get the feeling that this would happen a lot; Dean guessing at why Sam did whatever it was that he did. For a moment Sam thought they were getting closer but somehow that feeling was slowly being shut down. He felt a slight panic in his head when Dean backed away, he'd gotten closer and opened up to someone and now he was paying for it, again. Sam's mind started counting the seconds for when something would happen, like John calling and saying they were moving again because he some discovered Dean and Mary were in town. Or something like that.

Dean was aware that he probably pressed a few buttons, accidentally pissing the taller teen off. "What was that, 'If you don't agree then we won't do it at all' crap? Just so you know, you're not going to be setting all the rules and conditions- wait."

Dean looked at Sam long and hard, "Is that why?" Dean half smirked, finally piecing together a theory for all of Sam's unexpected shut downs. "Sam, we're brothers. If this doesn't work out, we'll bury the hatch and deal. I mean, we don't have much of a choice, what with mom and dad on speaking terms again –I never told you about that." Dean stopped and realized: Sam had no idea that John was out with Mary last night, Dean had only figured that out with Cass and Bella. Dean couldn't help but laugh, "You remember last night? Dad wouldn't tell you what he was doing? He was out with mom, or so I've figured. We'll be seeing a lot more of each other than previously anticipated."

"But that aside, I _like_ you, Sam. I didn't mean to go overboard with the sexual urges, that's really the hormones talking."

Sam was left reeling in his seat, "Wait wait wait wait wait!" He shook his head a few times to try and adjust any possible brain cells that still felt like moving, "Give me a chance here, mom and dad are talking right now? How long have you known about this? How long has dad known about this! Why isn't anyone telling me anything! And you all wonder why I freak out when I learn about it, I'm the last one to know because you're all hiding it from me for some reason!" He wanted to storm out but better judgement took hold and he took a deep breath instead.

Dean had just spouted a few things that Sam would have liked to reply to but he just kept going with it and now Sam felt like he'd lost the opportunity to cover some bases he should have. "Okay, first I said 'we won't go for it at all' if you don't agree because I'd rather not get smacked in the face with something you're starting." Sam felt himself closing and tried hard to stop it from happening, "You're interested in me which made me interested in you. If I suddenly get more attached than you to something like this and you decide you no longer care then I'm the one left with the wounds and broken feelings." Sam's tone was defensive though the rage had subsided.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. You suck at expressing yourself so I'm left guessing at why you do these things. And I'm guessing out loud so you can correct them, because I know I suck at guesses. They tend to get too 'sci-fi' on me." Dean tried to shrug it off, walking the line between not being a wimp, not pissing Sam off, and apologizing was impossible. But Dean wasn't going to give up, he couldn't give up now. They'd just reached the point where they were ready to be two against the world, ready to piss off their parents and be disowned anyway. _'I'll be homeless by the end of the month if it's the last thing I do.'_ The thought was bitter, but plausible. Maybe he could fall back on staying with Cass... _'Yes, because the church will house two homosexual, incestuous brothers. Good thinking Dean.'_

"I promise I won't hurt you. That's what you're worried about, right? I'm not backing out Sam. I'm chasing you blindly without watching what I'm saying. Probably my own dumb way of trying to share with you, about myself. You don't need to worry so much. Hell, it would probably work better to take a risk, if you think the outcome's worth it." Dean peeked a glance back at Sam's face, trying to discern if he thought it was worth it. They both wanted it; they were both afraid of being hurt because their hearts were already in it. So what was standing in the way?

Sam knew Dean was right, worrying about it and putting up boundaries would end any decent relationship they might have had. He tried not to but he smirked at the way Dean described his way of sharing, apparently they both sucked at expressing themselves. Sam knew he owed Dean an apology but he had to get these things off his chest first.

"Second, how long has anyone known about mom and dad and why am I only hearing about it now?" Sam managed to stay level headed on this subject though he'd made it fairly obvious before that it bothered him quite a bit.

"Sam, would you breathe? You beat the living crap out of me last night. Did you expect me to come running back, singing the same tune? You'd have killed me." Dean raised a hand to his jaw, his cheek still sore from the night before. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that his shoulder was kinda strained from the landing on the front lawn.

"Obviously dad knew all along, that mom and I weren't dead. He knew that she left on purpose, and didn't report any missing persons. Hell, our dad sat on his ass without an attempt to find or help her, probably expecting her to come crawling back, apologizing for making a 'huge mistake.'" Dean paused and thought about it.

"I mean, some of that are my guesses. Mom didn't tell me anything about dad. All I know is that she hates him, but it hurts her to hate him. It confuses the hell out of me. I think she does the things she does just to piss him off, like she's a married woman and every man and town can have their way with her except her husband... Forget I said anything about that." Dean hated talking about his mother's work, hated sitting up late at night, trying to understand why she did it. He couldn't get his head around it, why _that_, of all things? Why not welfare, social assistance, and a crappy minimum wage job? Maybe she would have kept her sanity intact, or some dignity. It hurt to think of his mother like that, to think she'd made a mistake –was still making mistakes. Dean truly hoped that Sam wouldn't push the matter.

"Mom wasn't at home last night after I left your place." _'Without my shoes,'_ Dean added somewhat bitterly to himself. "She never takes house calls, and she usually leaves a note to let me know where she is, that I don't need to worry. I already knew that she'd angered someone at the bank, that's why they're taking our house..." Dean trailed off and looked up at Sam. That was another thing he hadn't told him: he'd be homeless in about a day. Dean felt a little below Sam's league, despite being family. His background was probably one Sam looked down on. If Dean couldn't understand why his mother did it, how could he expect Sam to? And how can you respect something you don't understand?

"Anyway, if mom had enemies at the bank, who knows who else she'd pissed off in the last while. So when she wasn't home, I panicked. Went to Cass' place for help, and he called an old friend of his. I'd told mom on the first day I met you that there was another Winchester family in town, and I asked if we were related. She just froze up, scared or something. She had asked me to leave, it was the last time I saw her. Still is, actually. I think she went to dad for help. No one told you earlier because no one knew to tell you. It was last night, alright?"

Sam waited for Dean to finish after the second point he'd wanted to address, quiet and not interrupting until the end. If there was ever a moment he felt like a jackass, it was when he interrupted someone in a fit of anger when if he'd just waited for them to finish he never would have gotten angry in the first place. He looked at the bruise and shook his head, "I'm sorry," he muttered though it was pretty quiet, "I didn't... I mean, it doesn't make sense to expect you to tell me something like this after you already tried and all... God what am I saying? I meant why wouldn't dad tell me anything? I'm just mad at him; I shouldn't take it out on you." He shook his head for the second time, "I'm just mad at him..."

Sam hadn't realized that Dean was in such a tight spot, he was starting to feel pretty shitty about the way he was acting, though there was one more thing bugging him.

"But just a third thing, you can't just say 'that aside' when it comes to conversations like this one, they're important. It's stuff like this that I was talking about, getting to know one another. How are you gonna know how I feel or if I even do if you don't hear out my answer first?" He looked away for a moment, realizing that Dean was pretty bad at socializing too. He smirked, "We kinda suck, you know? We're both terrible with people with it counts, I guess it doesn't matter who's parenting was better when they both screwed up."

"Yeah," Dean somberly agreed, dropping his anger issues. _'Mom was right, I need to watch that temper. Too bad no one told Sammy that. I wonder what he'd say if I called him that now... Probably punch me.'_

Sam sighed and scratched his head, "Okay I'm sorry for blowing up about all of this." He was tired of leaving relationships in tatters after he'd lost his temper in something, "And I like you too, that's why I want this to work out."

"We both suck, but if we can survive each other, we can suck together. How does that sound, Sammy?" Dean cracked a smile that bordered on obnoxious. He knew what he'd done, but he wanted to be the one person in Sam's life who could get away with it.

Sam looked up at Dean, one eyebrow cocked in annoyance but he waved a hand in Dean's direction, "Nah, not worth it." He grinned to show Dean he was joking around as well, if people were gonna call him Sammy anyway, he might as well not let it bother him. Dean would be the first tolerated case, though Sam was pretty sure he'd punch Tristan every time. "We already suck together," he laughed, "But it sounds good, Dean." He was glad they were making an effort to work through this whole thing, there were inevitably rough patches for both of them but they seemed to make it through.

"Alright so a few dates first, feel this whole brother attraction thing out. If you can still stand me after a few hours together, and likewise I can stand you, then I'm totally game for fucking." Sam figured that was a fair way to set it up, smiling at Dean.

Dean chuckled and slid closer to Sam on the bench. "Ok, you're totally busted. You're a big softie, aren't you? You just don't want to get hurt, and I get that. But you don't have to chock all this up to fucking and hormones." Dean leaned in and kissed Sam –_gently_, on the cheek. "I think both of us will be putting up too much of a charade to know after a few hours. Can we give it a few weeks, at least?"

Sam smiled and looked away; Dean caught something on a first guess. He hadn't expected the kiss but he welcomed it, "I think you're right about that charade thing," he turned to look at his brother again, "A few weeks sounds like a better idea." He returned the gift, kissing Dean softly this time.

Dean blushed at just how gentle Sam could be, how soft his kisses were. "You know you're good at that. Kissing, I mean." Dean tried to rub the blush out of his skin, to no avail. "Being so mean doesn't really suit you. I kind of feel like it's not in your nature." Dean laughed, and shared the added tag line, "It was probably more nurture, than anything."

Sam laughed, "You kidding me? Your temper's just as bad as mine and you know it. Like you said, nurture. I wouldn't say being mean is in any body's nature, it just kind of happens." He shrugged, "But thank you," smiling, Sam rubbed the back of his neck a little, "Honestly no one's really told me that, you know, any of it. I have no idea how I kiss for one, and I guess people think I was born mean."

"Since we're already out this way, how about we ditch class and start now? We could go for burgers!"

"Ditching class sounds awesome, let's do that." Sam chided excitedly, he'd never really skipped class before. He was the dutiful student who always showed up even when sick, it was about time he broke that record. Sam took Dean's hand this time and started walking, "I have no idea where a good burger joint is but I imagine that someone like you does, so let's go." He smiled and exchanged a glance with his older brother.

Dean's blush didn't dissipate in the slightest when Sam took his hand. "Hell yeah I know a good burger joint. It's a couple blocks this way." Dean was deciding whether or not he should pick on Sam, the answer seemed obvious. "Hey, you sounded really excited to be cutting class. Like 'lose your virginity' excited. Don't tell me you're a teacher's pet." Dean smirked, the thought of bad-ass angry military Sam giving his teacher a bright red shiny apple was a damned funny thought.

"Watch it," Sam chuckled, "I could still hit you for that 'Sammy' thing." His tone was joking of course, though his expression slowly softened as he thought about it, "Don't be scared of me, Dean." Sam looked down at their hands folded together, "I won't hurt you either, I promise." He smiled sweetly, another new thing for him.

As they walked ahead Sam couldn't help himself, "And yes, I was a teacher's pet back in my old school."


	5. Chapter 5

It was later in the day when Sam said he wanted to see what Dean was used to living in and wouldn't take no for an answer. He would even go as far as to look it up in the library and head there with or without Dean's permission, so they ended up walking that way anyway. Sam rubbed his jaw as they headed up the block, "My face hurts from smiling too much," he snickered as he tried to massage the muscles.

Dean laughed, "Yeah, mine too. Hey, maybe you wouldn't be smiling so much if you didn't take so much pleasure in tormenting me, huh?" Dean elbowed Sam playfully. "'I'll go to the library,' he says. I've never been so threatened by books. You are damned persistent." Dean walked purposefully close to Sam, sneaking an unexpected hip check into his stride. Sam was big, but he wasn't done growing, and that left his long-ass legs to be fairly colt-ish, which summed up to this: he could have very bad balance. Dean thought it was funny when he discovered it, knocking Sam into the grass at the park. If everyday could be like this one, Dean figured he could survive the miscommunication fights.

"Threatened by books? You?" Sam smirked, "Nah, all they'll do is fall on you. Judging from your height though I guess it makes sense you're scared of them." Sam enjoyed poking fun at Dean's shortness, especially since he was the older brother.

Sam stumbled with the hip-check though this time he had a feeling it was coming, since the same thing happened at the park earlier. The difference this time around was Sam didn't fall to the ground like a great big tree. "Not this time," he sneered playfully, pinching at Dean's sides.

"We're almost there," Dean's voice was still up beat, still smiling, but a tinge of nervousness shone through. What would Sam think of their little shack? They hadn't had power or running water for months. It was cheaper to get a gym pass for Dean to use the showers there. And when 'guests' came over, then candle lighting did just fine. The place was in ruins, but it was still home.

When they reached the house, Sam glanced in one of the windows and noted that it was really empty inside. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out if Dean really had no stuff or something else had happened here. "I think you moved..." he muttered, walking up to the window.

Neither of them knew of the arrangement that John and Mary had made, Dean hadn't seen his mother which was why he was at the Novak's last night. Sam hardly spoke to his father and after that little incident where he beat Dean up; he really hadn't felt like trying to get any information out of the ex-marine. So now they stood dumb-founded and trying to figure out where Dean's home went.

"What?" Dean looked at Sam as though he were crazy, "You think I don't know where I live? What're you talking about?" Dean took a look in the window, and sure enough the house was empty. "Today was our last day..." Dean's face fell, "They took our stuff. What the hell?" Dean booked it to the front door, as though getting there faster would send him back in time to catch the guys who moved their things. "No no no no! This can't be happening!" Dean looked back over at Sam, who was casually placing a phone call. "What the hell?" Dean squeaked, and was glad for the distance between them lest Sam never let him live it down.

As soon as Dean started to react, Sam had pulled out his phone and called John's cell. If Dean was right and their parents had been together that night then John might know what was up.

"Hello?"

Sam smirked, "I thought you taught me better than to answer that way." He said smugly.

John laughed, a sound Sam wasn't sure he'd heard before, "I did say that, didn't I? What do you need?"

Always straight to the point, though something about John's tone was entirely different today. Regardless of the good mood his father was in, Sam would have none of it, "I heard you were talking with **mom** yesterday. Dean and I went by her house and it's empty so I was wondering if you knew anything about it."

John winced; Sam figured it out before he could talk to him, not a good thing. "Listen Sam, I was going to tell you about all of this yesterday but you wouldn't come out of your room."

"You came back around midnight! I was going to bed-"

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry." John quickly tried to calm his enraged son though he had little practice with it. Sam's rampage definitely slowed when hearing John's voice speak the words 'I'm sorry' and 'you're right', confusion was the only way to describe Sam's face.

"What... what's going on?" Sam asked calmly, realizing he was getting no fight out of John today.

Dean noted that Sam's emotions were off the wall. First confidence when making the call, then anger, then utter confusion, and now a strained sort of half control. Dean peered closer at Sam's face, getting obnoxiously close, just to bug his brother. The thought that Sam might not be in the mood for games didn't occur to him. Dean was still running on the good time they'd had until now. Maybe it would even cheer him up.

Sam, who was trying to figure out what was up with their dad and the seriousness of the situation, tried even harder to keep a straight face. He kept glancing at Dean while waiting for John's hesitant reply and the older Winchester could see little cracks in Sam's poker face. He eventually broke and swatted at Dean playfully, mouthing words with a smile, 'back off you pest' was a predominant one.

"Mary and Dean were being evicted so I took them in, they'll be staying with us." John tried to explain.

Sam nodded, "Oh..." He hung up and looked at Dean, "You uh... you live at my house now." He didn't know how else to put it.

"I what." It was more of an expression than an actual question. Dean's eyebrows had long reached their peak, and if they rose any higher they'd disappear into his hair line. With disbelief getting him nowhere, Dean fell back to regroup. "So... Mom and Dad moved our stuff? To your place?" _'Is this so unbelievable? Mom went to ask John for help. In the end she did go back...'_ Dean clenched his fists, remembering the promise he'd made the night before. John had ruined everything, he ruined his mother's life, he'd ruined his brother's life, and now they were all going to live together? One big happy family?

Sam fiddled with his phone before tossing it into his pocket. Dean's expression told Sam all he needed to know; he was pretty stuck on the whole thing too. Hell, what was he going to say to either of them? To his dad who lied to him longer than anyone he'd ever known, or to his mom who apparently abandoned him? It was all a big mixture of 'what the hell', as Dean would put it.

"I swear to God and any angels left up there watching, I'm going to kill that sonofabitch." Dean turned with an angry, determined grind in his step. He bee-lined for the only remaining Winchester residence in town. "This is something I have to do," Dean glanced at Sam, hoping that his new boyfriend wouldn't try and stop him.

Sam fell in line with his brother, his face telling the same story as Dean's. He exchanged the glance with his brother and nodded, "Can I help you with that?" He was dreadfully serious though he knew Dean deserved a shot at the old man more than himself. Sam lived with John for years and had plenty of chances to duke it out; it was Dean's turn to let off some steam. No, Sam had some serious questions for their mother he needed to ask. "You can have at him as long as I get to talk to mom."

Dean's worries about Sam protecting their father were not only misplaced, Dean realized they were entirely wrong. Sam would've drop-kicked the man after Dean had him down –it'd have been an awesome tag team. Dean smiled a bit at that, he and Sammy would get along just fine.

* * *

><p>Dean swung the front door open, "JOHN!" He yelled upon entering, not hiding his intentions in the least. "You son of a bitch, get your cowardly ass out here!" Dean raged, but waited for John, trashing the house wouldn't do him any good.<p>

John, having been sitting in the kitchen with Mary after a long day of packing and unpacking, flinched at the sound of his name being bellowed across the house; this time it wasn't Sam. John didn't hesitate; he stood and walked to the entrance, knowing full well what an enraged teen sounded like. He figured talking at this moment wouldn't do him any good so he stepped into view keeping his expression as neutral as possible. This proved difficult because as soon as he saw his oldest son he couldn't help the smile that took up his tired muscles.

"There you are. Do you have any idea the kind of monster you are? Do you have any idea how _broken_ Sam is because of you? For what you've done to my family, to my mother and my brother, I will never forgive you!" Dean glared daggers, intentionally waiting until John tried to explain himself before screaming back at him.

John heard Dean out and waited a moment; the daggers he received weren't unexpected. Hell, he expected to be shot by Sam after this little fiasco. "Dean, I-"

"**EVER!"**

Dean launched himself across the room to take the first swing –it would be the single most satisfying move in his young life.

John stood his ground and didn't bother to dodge the hit; he knew he deserved it so why take that away from his son? Granted he was shocked at how strong it was, he'd underestimated the strength of anger and adrenaline again, something that was fairly stupid of him. John stumbled to the floor, his hand instinctively coming up to rub his soon to be swollen jaw. "Ah... tough hitter, just like his brother." John mused as he wearily pulled himself back to his feet.

"Don't you patronize me," Dean warned, anger roiling in his stomach, flickering across his vision. It wasn't what Dean expected, none of it. He thought his mother would be in danger, thought he might have walked in on something awful but he couldn't see her anywhere. John was supposed to be a menace; he was supposed to be like all those bullies –a jerk more than willing to resort to violence. That single outburst, punching his father square in the face, was supposed to be satisfying and fulfilling –but it wasn't. And the man just stood back up, like it was nothing. Like it had happened a hundred times before and would happen a hundred times more.

"I deserve that and a lot more." John turned to face his oldest son again, not shying away or hiding, "I won't ask that you forgive me, Dean. I was so wrong, the way I treated your mother back then and now the way I raised Sam. I pushed her away and because of that I lost all three of you, I destroyed my own family because of the tyrant that I am." His naturally strong jaw quivered as he tried to stand his ground, tried to own up to his mistakes. "I don't deserve to have you in my life; you, your mother or Sammy." He fought the sting in his eyes, a losing battle to be sure. "But I need you, all three of you. Always have," his voice broke as tears welled up in his eyes, "I loved Mary with all my heart but I lost sight of what was important, that family comes before everything else. I was so stuck on finding a way to pay for everything we needed that I forgot to express the most important things. I am a very stupid and foolish man."

"You're damn right you lost all of us. Have you looked into mom's eyes? _**Have you?**_ She's half dead inside!" Dean screamed at the older man, feelings of rage, pain, and all the pity and concerns for his mother welling up. "And it's all _**your**_ fault! The way you hurt people isn't as humane as shooting them, I wish that was all it was. You," Dean paced a semi circle, not dropping his fight, "You _torture_ them. You make them wish they were dead. The emotional abuse I see in the people who've had to live with your bullshit is unparalleled. They're _broken_, John." Dean refused to call him 'dad,' not to his face. Dean resisted any feelings of sympathy or pity with ease. The man was as heartfelt as a guy could get, tears and all. He was even apologizing, he knew he wasn't right, _'So what is it I want from all this?'_

John had waited until Dean had spoken, had let out a lot of what he needed to. "I've seen your mother," John said regrettably, though part of him wanted to ask if Dean had looked into John's eyes. "And I've seen Sam. I don't expect any of this will be easy and I'm not looking for a simple answer here." John sighed, glancing at the kitchen. _"They're _broken_ John."_ He repeated to himself mentally, _'I pushed Mary away and she did that to herself, Sam I raised that way; like father like son I guess.'_

John didn't bother wiping his eyes knowing that as soon as he did more tears would replace the rest, "Please, for your sake, for your mom's sake, let me try to redeem myself. You can stay here, no rent or bills or anything. I can help you get out of your rough patches, at least let me do that much." He was close to begging, knowing that getting Dean to stay was just as or more important than convincing Mary. "I'm trying to find a way to fix things with Sam, I really am trying. I screwed up so badly with him he won't give me a chance but I'm not giving up on him," part of him knew that it might be too late but trying later was better than never.

Dean's fists remained clenched at his sides, one hit just wasn't enough. "You better believe you have some redeeming to do. I don't know you, not in the least. I don't think I've ever wanted to know you." Dean clicked his jaw shut, snapping out every sentence. "Everyone has always told me that they feel sorry for me, that I should've grown up with a proper male role model in my life. But you know what? I think it's more valuable to have a loving mother. For all the shit that's gone wrong in my life, I've never once blamed mom. She's the kindest woman I've ever known. But you, did you know that Sam nearly _**hates**_ you? You're to blame for almost everything that plagues him. So yeah, you need to fix things with Sam, but you'd better not expect much progress."

"I know he hates me and I know you do too. I don't blame you for that; I'd hate me if I were you so by all means." John nodded his head, "I don't expect progress with either of you, but that doesn't mean I won't still try." He could hear himself but John didn't know how long any of that would last. What would happen when one of them pushed his buttons? Sam was good at it and John knew he'd try. _'Well that's kind of the point, isn't it? He's hurt and he'll pull away as many times as I try to get close, it's just what I have to expect.'_

Pacing now, Dean's adrenaline was getting the better of him, fuelled by rage and partly by fear. This man was a former marine. He hadn't hit back yet, he tried explaining first. But Dean knew that John could deal him some serious damage if he wanted to. Dean fumed at the realization, "I'm not going to let you push me around!" He screamed at John, "I swore I'd kill you, and I'm gonna do it." Dean ran at him again, expecting more retaliation this time. Dean came at John with another swing to the face, ready for the fight to get good and bloody.

John's head snapped up again, he recognized a serious 'I'll kill you' when he heard it. John noted that Dean hadn't taken up a weapon of any kind as he hurled himself across the room. Figuring Dean might feel better if he pummelled John a bit; the ex-marine stood still and let Dean get a few hits in.

One hit to the face yielded Dean no reaction and no response. John didn't seem to care, like he'd seen worse or maybe Dean just couldn't hit. Dean swung again, his right fist connecting solidly with John's gut. Dean could feel it when he hit, John was still solid from his years of training and service. And whether or not it was intentional, every time Dean struck out at the man, he twisted ever so slightly, deflecting the severity of the blow. Dean just kept swinging, his vision tinged red with anger and hate, and every violent outburst made him feel less inside –this wasn't helping. This didn't fix a damn thing, this didn't change a damn thing, and he wasn't getting anywhere. "_Why?_" Dean's voice cracked, and he wasn't even sure what he was asking. _Why doesn't this make me feel better? After all these years of waiting for you, why don't I feel good about this?_

"Listen to me," John caught one of Dean's fists, not painfully or aggressively but enough to halt the boy's actions, "I promised your mother I wouldn't hurt you, so if a fight's what you're looking for I can't give that to you." He could tell by the strength in Dean's arm that he was pretty serious, though John could see a killer when he saw their eyes, Dean wasn't anywhere close. He shook his head, "You won't kill me and you know it, Dean. You aren't that kind of man. Besides, you'd end up in jail which would only hurt your mother more. So let's stop this, okay? I get that you hate me and I get that you want nothing to do with me, but I'm your best option here." He tried to sound convincing and apologetic at the same time, hoping Dean wouldn't try to continue the 'fight to the death' mentality.

John seemed to speak to Dean's every thought. It was almost frightening how well he understood blind rage. He wasn't feeding it, wasn't making it worse; he was simply neutral, trying for reason. Dean glared, clenched and unclenched his fists. _'What am I supposed to do?'_ Dean's mind was in turmoil. He knew he didn't have the whole story between John and Mary, that there were things his mom wouldn't talk about; things that she didn't ever want to talk about. That wasn't the worst of it, Sam was the last straw. Sam was quickly becoming Dean's everything. His mom was old, and always kept him at arm's length except for when she truly broke down. When she was so far gone from the sex and the abuse and the alcohol that Dean was just as good as any other man, and she finally came to him in her half coherent stupor. But as long as Dean didn't remember that, as long as he didn't think about that, he could hold a higher image of her. A proud woman fighting in a cruel world... But the older he got the more he knew that there were better options.

"_You'd end up in jail ...hurt your mother more..."_ Dean shook his head. John was right –again. Mary wanted this; she asked for this. She came to this man for help for the both of them, so Dean didn't have to get help. She wanted this, so why protect her from her choices? And John's killer point number two: Dean had no choice. John was their best option. Hell, he was probably their only option (save the very reluctant Father Novak).

"I would almost rather take that job from Pastor Jimmy than stay with you." Dean's eyes were still sharp and focused, but he kept his distance now. He knew the fight was over, and part of him was glad for it. Adrenaline wrecked havoc with the system, and the crash was awful. The realization of what he just said hit him hard, even if John didn't understand its implications. It would take a long time if it were to happen at all for Dean and John to build a relationship.

John had waited patiently for Dean to respond to him, words were what he hoped for though he honestly expected to be punched again. However the words that finally came out of his son's mouth were cause for concern, "Job from Pastor Jimmy?" To John it didn't make much sense, even if he worked for the father where would he live? Unless it was live with Pastor Jimmy and in return do a job for him. Regardless of what he said, what he meant was pretty clear; Dean would rather be anywhere but with John if he had a choice. That's where the 'almost' comes into play, or so John figured.

* * *

><p>Mary had heard Dean yell, and knew he was beyond control of his anger. Apparently he and Sam were getting along outside of school. Mary smiled at how charming it was that two lost brothers would find each other so quickly, without really needing to be told. John stumbled, and Mary started to get up, hoping she could do something to stop the fight. If John hit a younger Sam, then Dean had it coming.<p>

Sam, meanwhile, had walked past John to where he knew Mary would be. "Mom?" His features softened when he saw her, an older and much more worn woman than the one in the pictures on his mantle.

Mary's eyes shot to the unfamiliar face in the doorway, "Sam?" Mary tilted her head ever-so-slightly. "Is that really you?" He was so tall, must have taken after the Campbells.

Sam couldn't fight the hot stream that flowed down his cheeks, millions of questions swarmed in his head but the only one that he could vocalize in that moment of confusion was "Why?" This was the way Sam started his usual snowball effect of questions, though he was having trouble this time.

"Sweetie, please don't cry." Mary caught sight of those glistening tears as soon as the light of day revealed them. She walked closer to Sam, getting a better look, and closing the gap, at least the physical one.

Through tears and an urge that told him to start sobbing uncontrollably, Sam stepped closer to her, "Why would you leave me behind like that? Wasn't I important to you? Wasn't I worth it? If you couldn't live with him why did you leave your newborn to be raised by someone like him? Why mom?" Sam couldn't control the rise and fall of his volume or the cracks in his voice. His entire body was shaking, the tremors in his shoulders started increasing as he fought the fit he wanted to throw.

It was only fair that Sam would be hurt by this, understandable that after just figuring it all out, after finding that half his history was a lie told to him by the man closest in his life, that Sam would be an emotional wreck. He deserved answers to all of those questions, and Mary knew she had some explaining to do. The hurt in Sam's voice, and pain etched so visibly in his face brought tears to Mary's eyes. She wanted him to let it all out before even trying.

"You _knew_ you had another son! And you knew you left me behind! Did it _ever_ occur to you that I might have wanted to know my mom? That maybe I wouldn't have made up fantasies about how life would have been if you weren't 'dead'?" Anger was Sam's default and though he tried not to he was falling back on it. He was sad, angry, confused and numerous other things thanks to Dean. It was too much for him to experience in one day and it was all coming out now. "Why couldn't you have called? Because dad would have hunted you down or something? What were you so scared of that you refused to let me be in your life? Why'd you leave me?" Sam's intensity dropped suddenly as he asked the last question, his voice was soft and his eyes stared up at her like an abused puppy.

After his confusion ran its course, after his emotional turmoil had its way with him, Sam finally simmered out to the raw hurt of abandonment that plagued him most. "Sam," Mary placed a hand on his wet cheek, gently turning his head to look at her better (that is, look down). Mary's eyes were wet with tears, regret turned her stomach. "I'm so sorry. When you were born, I didn't want anything to do with you. You were another sign of my union with John, you had his DNA and I didn't want more of John, I wanted less. You were just a newborn, and I'd already raised Dean almost on my own for two years. I didn't think I could take care of you too. I took Dean and ran, and I could never come back. It was hard enough to leave once. But the third night away, when I wasn't woken by the sound of a newborn crying, I regretted leaving you behind, more than anything. I wished I had taken you with me, that when you cried at night I could hold you and tell you that everything was going to be ok, just like I had done for your brother. I hated the thought of you crying alone in the night, that John might not even care, maybe he just put in ear plugs..." Mary wiped the tears from her face.

"Seeing you now only confirms that what I did was horribly mistaken. I would do anything to change that now."

Sam's eyes were already swollen and red as he stared down at his mother, trying to explain herself. _'Selfish.'_ Is the only way Sam could sum it up. He had to make a decision now, would he be like his dad and blow up over it? Would he just forgive her like Dean? _'I'm not dad and I'm nowhere close to being Dean.'_ He thought and chose to vocalize it, "You were selfish." His voice was regaining some strength now, "It's too late to take it back now." He stepped away from her, not wanting her to touch him, it was caring and at that moment the only one he wanted to care for him was Dean. Dean hadn't lied to him or avoided him, Dean was real and Dean was the only person Sam needed.

"No Sam. It's never too late. If you start thinking like that, you'll never be able to forgive anyone in your life and move on." Mary's tears ran down her face, clearing away layers of foundation to reveal the age-damaged skin beneath, a terrifyingly pale color. She tried to wipe them away before they did more damage. Sam's pulling way wasn't expected –Mary had hope that he would be understanding, that he would love to have a mother in his life. Dreams were always better than reality, and she knew now that she'd hoped for too much. She'd never thought herself selfish before, but Sam certainly had a point.

"You could have come back; you could have divorced him like a _normal person would_. I was an infant! You would've had custody over me easily, and you would have had child support money. You're just as selfish and stubborn as he is, just as prideful." Sam pointed an accusing finger at her, "I'm not like dad, I won't shout and hit you to solve the problem. I'm not like Dean, I'm not going to just roll over forgive you, blaming someone else for the issues. God help me if I'm like you, this is my house and I'm not running away, I'm not a coward." He shook his head. "We're done here."

"Sam, please don't go!" Mary flinched before reaching for her estranged son, "I'm sorry." She offered one more time. It was no good, she knew. She'd left Sam for dead when she ran. She never expected him to survive; she never expected to ever see John again. The baby was a write off, a casualty of domestic warfare. It was hard to see him alive and healthy, wanting answers for his past. He wasn't supposed to be there, but Mary would never tell him that.

Sam coldly turned away from her and stalked out of the kitchen, he paused and looked at John and Dean, figuring it wasn't his place to join in he ran up the stairs to his room. He noticed the change immediately; they didn't have a spare room for both Dean and Mary so they moved Dean's things into Sam's room. Sam stared at the second bed crammed against the opposite wall from his own, different boxes and bags dropped on it carelessly. _'At least he'll be close by.'_ Sam dropped onto his mattress and buried his face in the pillow, curling up and trying to get away from his thoughts.

Dean caught sight of Sam disappearing up the stairs, his heavy footfalls echoed through the small house. _'Something must not have gone well with mom,'_ Dean mused as his eyes remained fixed on the stairs. Their afternoon playing hooky was amazing –Dean couldn't remember having ever had such a good time with anyone before. The diner and the park were hilarious, and oddly sentimental –like they'd do it a hundred times more. What he had with Sam he knew would last, he could just feel it.

Dean pointed at John, "This can wait," and took off up the stairs after Sam.

John watched him vanish and sighed heavily, "That went pretty well." He called as casually as he could into the kitchen, knowing that if Sam stormed away then Mary would definitely be in tears.

* * *

><p>"Sammy? Hey, are you alright?" Dean found Sam's room easily enough, first door at the top of the stairs. Dean walked to Sam's bedside, and slowly noticed some familiar sights, his ratty old mattress in the corner being one of them. <em>'I'm sharing a room with Sam...'<em> Dean had known for less than an hour that he'd be living with Sam and John, and he'd known for less than a day that he and Sam would be dating. And they were already sharing a room. "Sam, it's going to be alright." Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed, placing a comforting hand on Sam's back, and started to caress in small circular patterns, working out some of the stress kinks.

Sam flinched when he heard Dean's voice, not expecting to be followed so soon. He glanced away from the pillow, his tear stained face peering out at his older brother, "How's it going to be alright, Dean?" He turned back into his previous position, "I don't understand..."

"It's going to be really rough for the next few years, but after that the two of us can leave this town behind us. Get an apartment, get some jobs, and just get away for a while, K? I promise I'll go if you want to come with me. What do you say?" Dean's voice was soft, tender and unintentionally loving. Sam would let him help, wouldn't push him away and handle it all himself. And if he tried, Dean would at least be able to twist his arm a bit.

Dean's tone drew Sam out of his closed off state, sitting up and crossing his legs Sam shifted his body to face Dean now. "You mean it?" He sounded more like a little brother in that moment than he ever had in his entire life, big hazel eyes staring tentatively into his big brother's. Sam reached forward and took Dean's hand firmly in his own, "If you promise, then I'll come with you. Just the two of us, see how they like us then." Sam grinned a little, the thought of pissing their parents off with the whole incest thing was quickly becoming the only reason he wanted to stay in the same house as them.

"You know, it's pretty unusual. Our arrangement? Normally when the kids hit their teens the parents decide that it's not good to be fighting at home and figure they'd be better off separate. But not our parents, no no. They decide that it would be better to get back together and _start_ fighting. Awesome, right?" Dean laughed a bit, "Not yet, but they will."

Sam's shoulders trembled as he held back a laugh, "You're so right, what the hell?" He smiled and looked at the shitty mattress. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like living on something like that for years, though he figured it was a decent trade for some affection once in a while. He'd sleep on the ground if it meant someone would hug him once a week, though maybe he just wasn't worth it. He sighed heavily and dropped back onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

Dean lay down beside Sam, "Anything I can do to help? Maybe cheer you up?" Dean kissed Sam's ear, sliding his tongue over Sam's earlobe. Sam seemed to take well to playfulness, and for all Dean knew it was the only sliver of light Sammy had right now.

Sam's body shuddered, a light moan escaping him. "You're doing it," he whispered, rolling his head over to face his boyfriend. Sam leaned in and kissed Dean, enjoying the passion they shared. Dean was so affectionate and attentive to him, something Sam wasn't sure he understood. He'd never really felt appreciated by John though there was no surprise there, and now that he knew Mary hadn't died but _abandoned_ him he'd lost sight of any self-worth he might've accumulated over the years.

"Hey..." Sam rested his head back on the pillow; his eyes shifting between Dean's right and left, "Do you... Would you have left me? If you were older when mom ran away, would you have taken me with?" Sam's bottom lip quivered and he quickly wiped his eyes again, "You're all I have," he managed to choke out before sobbing the way his body threatened to in front of Mary. Sam inched closer and wrapped his arms around Dean; burying his face against Dean's neck he started breaking down, "Don't go, Dean." Sam whimpered helplessly, his fingers digging into his brother's jacket.

The ways in which Sam opened up to Dean were immeasurable given the short amount of time they'd spend together. Dean couldn't help but think they were meant to be, they were just too close too fast for it to be anything else. Dean brought his hand up from Sam's back and pet his head, brushing stray strands of hair from Sam's face. "Sammy, I would have _never_ left you behind if I were able to take you with. I can imagine how it would've gone down, mom would be working twice as much and we'd hardly see her, but if I were able I'd work too. Probably wouldn't have ever gone to school, but I would have had someone to take care of."

Dean hugged Sam tightly, nuzzling his cheek against Sam's head. "I'm never leaving, Sam. I won't go anywhere without you." Dean sniffled a bit, "You're all I have too, you're all I want. We'll be ok, just the two of us." Dean held Sam close, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He was grateful that Sam opened up to him, that he was there to witness that emotional blockade come crumbling down. After years of keeping away from himself and his emotions, Sam stood little chance against the mounted tidal wave that was finally coming free.

Sam didn't let go of his big brother, didn't want to. Dean said everything he needed to, everything Sam needed to hear just shy of three little words. Sam was pretty comfy snuggled up to Dean, the exhaustion of the last few days starting to get to him. "I love you, Dean." He mumbled weakly into Dean's chest, not expecting to be heard. Seconds later Sam had dozed off, his body relaxing in Dean's arms.

* * *

><p>John dropped himself next to Mary in the kitchen; silence filled the room though both their minds were turning gears like clock-work. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded slowly for what felt like the hundredth time. "Don't feel bad, Mary." John started, "Sam's tough but he'll come around, it'll just take you being there, saying the right thing at the right time." He smiled a little, "You were always good at that. Sam doesn't stand a chance against you, so don't give up."<p>

Mary sniffled, blowing her nose once more. She looked at John, "I didn't think he'd be so mad. I don't know what to do to fix this." She hung her head, trying to fight the tears. "Do you really think it's possible? That Sam may eventually like me? He's so alone right now, pushing everyone away like that. I'm impressed that Dean got in."

"I'm kinda shocked that Dean got in too." John mused, "It's strange but hey, if someone can get close to Sam it'd be a complete stranger to him. It'll take time, you'll get there." He tried his best to reassure her. John wasn't so sure about Dean, though. He didn't know anything about the boy. "I am a little confused though; Dean mentioned he'd rather do 'that job for Pastor Jimmy' than stay with me. What job was he talking about?" John's gaze shifted to Mary again, though he found no answer there.

"A job for Pastor Jimmy?" Mary was just as confused as John. Jimmy didn't need any help around the church, he had his son for that. But the last time Jimmy had paid her a visit, he had indirectly asked about Dean's participation. The conversation was shut down, but it was still slightly unsettling.

"Hm... I think I'll call and ask." John glanced at the time and scratched the back of his head, "It's not that late, he should be up." John grabbed the phonebook and quickly discovered the local preacher's number. "Do you mind?" He paused to consult Mary on this; if she'd rather talk to him then he'd rather call another time. Mary nodded, needing John to call and clear this up. It was all seeming a little too sketchy for her taste.

The phone clicked on the other end, a rather rough voice greeting John and Mary (He put it on speaker). "Hello, Novak's residence."

John cleared his throat and leaned closer to the receiver, "Yes, is this Father Novak?"

"No, his son Castiel. Can I help you?" Castiel sounded entirely pleasant and well mannered, John seemed fairly impressed with this young man.

"His son, well maybe you know then. This is John Winchester, I'd heard he offered Dean a job of some kind and-"

"John Winchester?" Castiel's voice suddenly sounded harsher and much less friendly. "As in, Sam Winchester's father?"

"Oh, you know Sam too?" John pieced it together; this Castiel must be in the boys' grade.

"I do," Castiel's tone grew angrier as he spoke. "I also know that Dean was supposed to meet you soon. Now his house is empty and he hasn't come back to my place. What have you done with him?"

John blinked incredulously then turned to look at Mary for some help, "I'm not sure what you think I am but I didn't tie him up and put him in my basement." He had no idea how to address an accusation like that, why would a stranger assume he'd 'done something' with Dean? What kinds of colours was he being painted already? He hadn't even been in town for half a week!

"Well then _where_ have you tied him up, if not in your basement? Dean hates you; he'd never stay in your company longer than necessary." Castiel didn't seem to want to back down. John didn't get it, why was it that every teenage boy he came across wanted to fight him? "Let me talk to him."

"He's busy-"

"Convenient." Cass snapped an interruption, not too interested in hearing John's excuses.

"Listen kid, Dean's fine. He's with his brother in their room, I'm sure if he was going to tell you where he was he'd have done it already. But he hasn't had time to do that yet, give him a chance here." John was trying to find where he wanted to stand with this young man; Castiel was the preacher's son. Did John really want to piss that family off? Especially in a small town? Definitely not.

Castiel was quiet for a moment. "If you could ask him to call me I'd appreciate it." With a click Cass was gone.

John rolled his eyes, "That didn't get me any closer to the answer about that job thing." He sighed heavily though he couldn't help but laugh a little. Despite the emotional rollercoaster of a day, it was actually a pretty good one.

Mary quietly listened out the conversation until the rude disconnection at the end. She giggled, laughed a bit at the whole conversation despite the gravity of the situation. "You really are the town monster," she snickered again. "I never said anything about you, you know. I didn't know Dean had any friends, never mind the preacher's son. You have no luck with that generation, really none at all."

Mary stood up and walked over to John, placing her hand on his shoulders and started giving him a massage. "You should really try and relax –the stress is getting to you. Today's been a very big day for all of us, and not everything is going to fall perfectly into place. I'm going to bed, and tomorrow I'll try finding a job I guess. Taking on two extra people will not be easy for your budget."

John sighed and nodded; glad to hear she started to lift her spirits. "Thank you, Mary." He smiled over his shoulder at her, "Maybe if we show them we can work through this then they'll try to do the same." He was being hopeful, of course. This was assuming he and Mary could work through it. "And if you want maybe I could give you a job at the shop, we could use another secretary." He shrugged, "Anyway have a good night," smiling John stood and let her get to sleep, god knew they both needed it.

* * *

><p>Cass put the phone back on its cradle, staring down at it in hopes of hearing it ring again. Dean said he needed to talk to Sam alone and then they both vanished for the rest of the day. Cass wouldn't have minded that so much except a little heads up would have been nice, that way he wouldn't be left waiting by the door for Dean to come back. Again, he wouldn't have minded that either if it weren't for the fact that Tristan had it out for him now that he was a 'buddy of Sam's' and Dean's.<p>

The icing on the cake was that when Cass decided to go by Dean's house, to check in to see if Mary was safe and Sam and Dean were getting along, no one was there. Not just that nobody was there but it was entirely empty, as if they'd been evicted already. Cass had been under the impression that Dean would be moving in with him, but he also knew Dean would be asking the other Winchester's for help. That's when he really started to worry, John had been with Mary the night before and she never returned, as far as he knew. Now Dean was going to be seeing this same man, what if Mary was dead? Or held captive and Dean had no choice but to stay? It made sense to Cass, anyone who would raise their kid to be like Sam had to be a sociopath.

He just wished Dean would call him, put these fears to rest. Cass held the icepack up to his swollen cheek again, with the arm that wasn't in a sling anyway. His day at school hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped, especially after officially becoming Dean's only friend.

"Just let me know you're okay." He muttered, wandering back to the church to finish the cleaning duties his father had assigned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 4**

Dean's eyes fluttered open, and he quickly found that he couldn't feel his arm. Looking quickly to his side to figure out why, he found Sam soundly asleep on top of the numb limb. Dean smiled –he'd fallen asleep comforting Sam. At least he wasn't pushed out onto the floor in the middle of the night. Dean rolled onto his side toward Sam, stomach pressed to Sam's back. The feel of another body in his arms was comforting, and made him feel needed –he wasn't just another burden.

"Sam, we're going to be late for school if you keep sleeping like this. Sam," Dean nuzzled at Sam's neck, trying to wake him. "C'mon Sammy, wake up." Dean planted a trail of kisses down Sam's neck, crawling around to get his collarbone and jaw. Supporting his weight on his sleeping arm proved not to work as planned, and Dean collapsed onto Sam. _'Well if nothing else wakes him.'_ Dean struggled to get up. "Sorry about that. Now let's go."

Sam grunted when Dean's weight fell on top of him, "Oh god..." He groaned and lifted his head to peer at the culprit. "You're a menace.." he muttered, trying to nestle his head back into the pillow. He knew it was school and he'd already skipped one day, better not skip another. "I'm up I'm up." Sam pulled himself into a sitting position and yawned, his arms stretching high above his head. "Morning," tired and fairly puffy eyes gazed at Dean's equally groggy expression, "Sleep well?"

Dean wiped the sleep from his eyes and smiled at Sam, "Never better." These simple words and Dean's warm smile conveyed an honesty that hid a painful truth: up until that night Dean had never felt the love and appreciation that he was missing, and he figured that Sam felt the same. Years of a single-parent lifestyle had them trained to accept minimal encouragement and affection. Dean had never realized how burdensome he felt to his mother, how unequal their relationship was. If she could go back, would she take Sam with her? Or would she rather have left Dean behind as well? "These thoughts are just too damn heavy first thing in the morning." Dean muttered more to himself than to Sam.

After getting up and fumbling about for clothes and the like, Sam stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. He knew John would be up and out of the house already, early shift at the shop and all.

Following Sam's lead, Dean began the hunt for his clothes, which started with the arbitrarily noted box number one. Sam was dressed and down the hall to the bathroom by the time Dean finally found the box that contained his clothes, mostly unwashed but they didn't smell so bad. "I never knew I had so much stuff," Dean looked over at the previous three boxes he'd already rifled through and made a mess of. Figuring he'd get to it later, Dean left the disaster as-is.

Normally Sam was used to getting up and getting ready all alone, no one to bug him or get in his way. That, of course, was entirely different now. He woke to the smell of food in the air; Mary must be up or had been up making something. Sam did his morning routine as routinely as he could, though now there was a line for the bathroom and the possible chance of breakfast.

"Oh good, you boys are up. I figured that since there's food in this kitchen, I'd whip up some breakfast. Eggs and bacon anyone?" Mary smiled at her two sons, whether the smile was genuine or not, neither of them could tell.

It wasn't a normal morning, and Sam noted that it wouldn't be normal for a long time, or ever. In fact he'd have to get used to a new normal, which wasn't something he was ready to do but knew there was nothing to do about it.

As he scarfed down his breakfast, whether made by Mary or cereal he put together himself, Sam had to think about how he and Dean were going to go about their relationship. Making it public seemed like the best choice, Sam didn't feel like hiding it and when he had an urge to kiss Dean he'd prefer to have that option open to him.

Sam swallowed the last of it and leaned over to Dean -inevitably sitting next to him with a similar breakfast- and kissed him full on the lips. Intending to make a point in front of Mary, he didn't back off and passionately slipped his tongue into the wet, eager warmth of Dean's mouth.

Dean had just swallowed the final forkful of his breakfast when he noticed Sam moving in. Turning just in time to receive a strong kiss from his brother/boyfriend, Dean was caught off guard. Without any idea of how to appropriately respond, Dean found himself giving in to the 'if it feels good...' mentality, eagerly following Sam's lead. Dean could taste the remains of Sam's breakfast as their mouths opened to deepen the kiss. Closing his eyes, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, temporarily losing himself in the passion of their embrace.

Mary's jaw nearly hit the floor. Her immediate reaction was a mixture of shock and repulsion. Gag reflexes would've kicked in soon after if she wasn't already quite capable of keeping composure, though the urge to run to the bathroom lingered. "Stop right there," she tried to interject, but the boys continued the quickly-escalating, heated exchange. Her son of 17 years, who never seemed to too much wrong, never seemed too far off, was now completely gone in an act that Mary was damn sure was illegal, and if not then completely immoral. "Dean," she tried scolding, knowing that lecturing Sam would never work.

Slowly backing away, his eyes half-lidded in a lustful gaze, Sam just smiled and wiped the excess saliva from his lips. Without another word, Sam threw two lunches together and headed for the door, motioning for Dean to follow him. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk; he just didn't have anything to say to Mary.

Dean's cheeks broke into a furious blush. Mary was evidently unimpressed, and Dean couldn't help but feel just a little bad for it –like being indignantly ungrateful for everything she'd done so far. But Sam didn't seem to care who knew. Dean could only guess that Sam knew John would find out before the day was through; there'd probably be hell to pay. Dean followed Sam's gesture, taking the lunch prepared for him and quickly exiting the house.

"Oh god," Mary gasped, still struggling with what actions to take from here. "I need to call Father Novak." Mary dashed to the phone and dialled the preacher's number. "Hello, Pastor Jimmy? I need your advice. What should someone do if they discover an incestuous relationship?"

* * *

><p>Walking down the block Sam started to snicker, "Did you see her face?" He looked at Dean with a grin.<p>

"Dude, she's freaked." Dean responded, not finding the situation quite as funny as his brother was. Maybe it was because Sam was mad at Mary, because he didn't know her and didn't owe her. It would make sense, but Dean just couldn't convince himself to be that harsh about it. Dean cracked a smile for Sam's sake, _'No need to concern him... or piss him off.'_ "I swear I thought she was gonna puke."

Sam glanced at Dean, not really sure he understood the tone his brother took. They obviously weren't on the same page. _'Just keep your mouth shut. You don't need another communication fight in less than 24 hours. If it's a big deal, Dean will bring it up and we can fight about it then.'_ Sam decided.

Dean grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged him closer to exchange another kiss. Sam was a sort of aphrodisiac to Dean, being around him was intoxicating. Being near him was more comforting than anything Dean knew. If being with Sam was much akin to drugs, Dean didn't want to risk any unnecessary withdrawal.

Sam enjoyed their embrace as much as Dean had, finding that Dean's presence was more than satisfying, it even calmed him down when he was ready to blow out into a fit of rage. All in all, Sam knew that his brother being with him now was a good thing.

As the brothers approached the school, Sam spotted a familiar figure hobbling up the front steps. "Hey," he nudged Dean gently with his elbow, "Isn't that Cass?" Sam winced as he got a closer look at Castiel's state; the young man had his left arm in a sling, there appeared to be quite the bruise forming on his left cheek, and his limp suggested that he'd injured his right leg.

"Oh my god..." Dean's expression fell –Cass looked positively awful. Suddenly remembering that he had stood Cass up yesterday to ditch with Sam, Dean felt a horrible pit stir in his stomach. Evidently he was a terrible friend, and couldn't help but think that Cass' current state couldn't be unrelated to being abandoned the day before.

Sam recognized _that_ tone, "It isn't your fault, Dean." He muttered for his boyfriend's ears only, "He's bound to get into trouble on his own."

Cass lifted his head just enough to see the Winchesters. "Dean!" He exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. Cass started to hobble back down the stairs and over to them. "My word, I'm so glad you're safe!" he approached Dean, keeping a wary eye on Sam for a moment before noticing the obvious connection between them. "You two seem, closer." He looked at Dean, "How did everything go? Where are you living now?" Cass seemed very relieved and desperate at the same time. He hadn't quite gotten over the twitchy feelings that came with being extremely concerned for someone else's well being.

It was truly adorable how dedicated Castiel was to not swearing, and whenever a typical expression would call for one, Cass sounded completely out of place: who says 'my word,' as an exclamatory expression? The preacher's son, of course. "Yeah, we are a lot closer." Dean smirked, finding this to be the perfect opportunity to repay Sam for the un-discussed revelation of their relationship status. Dean planted a solid and demanding kiss on Sam's lips, savouring the taste once more.

Sam returned the kiss fervently, his arms wrapping around Dean and his hand coming up the back of Dean's head. As their make-out session intensified Castiel cleared his throat uncomfortably, not being used to public affection like they were displaying. "I'm glad to hear it, and you're living...?" He left it open for Dean to fill in the blanks.

"I'm living with Sam now," Dean shifted a little uneasily, feeling guilty for not following through on staying with Cass. "My mom talked things out with John Winchester, more or less. All of our stuff is already moved it. It really kind of sucks tho, I hate that guy."

Cass nodded, "I see, so it's working out then? I mean you aren't dead and I haven't heard any news about murders going on so I assume it went well."

Sam shrugged, "Well enough."

"Right," Cass glanced at Sam, he knew that the Winchester's weren't too good at conversing but Sam had a real knack for shooting down conversations.

"So what about you? What happened, was it Tristan? Are you ok?" Dean knew that 'are you ok' was a stupid question. He could see plain as day that a slinged arm and a distinct hobble were evidence of 'not ok,' but every time you ask someone, they'll tell you that they are ok, and you can feel better about it, even if it's a lie.

"Oh! This?" Cass looked at his sling and shrugged, "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"It's not nothing," Sam interjected, furrowing his brow, "What happened?"

Cass fidgeted a little before averting his eyes, "Well I waited for Dean to come back, after talking to you, and Tristan and his groupies figured it was a good time to jump me."

"I'm sorry for not coming back yesterday. Sam and I worked through a lot of what happened the night before, and I wanted to keep the ball rolling. I forgot all about what I had said, and I'm really sorry I didn't at least let you know I wasn't coming back." Dean wanted to explain that he wasn't used to having friends, that it wasn't his fault, but he knew those were nothing but excuses.

Cass smiled in Dean's direction, "It's okay Dean. What matters is that you're alive and not living on the streets, right? I mean, Tristan probably would have tried something with me regardless of whether you came to tell me you were leaving or not."

Just as Cass tried to wave it off as nothing, a random student came trotting up the block and noticed him, "Hey Priest!" He called out loud enough that surrounding students could hear, "Nice junk yesterday!" Numerous kids laughed, all having been witnesses to the other day's bullying.

Castiel blushed furiously and nodded at the teen, "Yes, thank you Josh." He looked down at the pavement for a moment then back at the Winchester's.

Sam's expression could best be described as unimpressed, "What did he do?"

"It's nothing. It happened yesterday, it's in the past, I'm okay." Cass spoke reassuringly though not too convincingly.

"Pantsed him good." Josh grinned as he walked by, though he wasn't far enough away to avoid Sam's fist. "Ow! What the fuck man?"

"I wasn't asking you," Sam growled out before turning back to Cass. "Pantsed you then beat you up or vice versa?"

Cass shrugged sheepishly, humiliation evident in his eyes, "Beat me up first..." He mumbled.

"Sam, would you give me a hand with Tristan? I think he's feeling a little left out of the 'broken arm' club, and probably a few others."

Sam nodded, "Sure thing, I'm pretty good with breaking bones unless you wanted to." He stalked into the school, glaring at anyone who looked at them funny, 'them' including himself, Dean and Cass.

"There'll be more than enough bones to break, and if I run out of arms I'll find something else." Dean was evidently enraged. For years Tristan had bullied him, and under his mother's anti-violence directorship, Dean took it every time. Only once did he fight back, but back then he was too small to fight the whole group. Since then he'd bulked up, gotten a lot bigger, and a lot more capable. But they felt secure in their numbers and the teasing continued. All it took for Cass to be targeted was talking to Dean. It had only been a few days, and he already had a broken limb, simply because he was trying to be Dean's friend.

It didn't take long for them to find Tristan's group of snickering assholes. One of them looked up and elbowed the guy nearest him, in seconds they all saw the brother's coming and reverted to defensive stances.

"What do you want, Winchester's?" Tristan said in his best tough-guy tone, his gaze shifting to Castiel's drawn back position, "This about preacher junior over there?"

"You know why we're here." Sam approached first and was promptly intercepted by Tristan's goons. Sam glanced back at his brother and smiled, "You take Tristan, I got these guys."With that, Sam faced off against four other guys lacking any fear or hesitation. He drew up the anger from the previous night, he needed to let it out somehow and it was better to punch out a few punks than his own parents.

Dean nodded –Tristan was the prize after all. "Cass, if one of those goons gets away from Sam, just yell for one of us, K?" Dean pat his friend on the shoulder and moved in to fight. Quickly dodging Sam's fight, Dean made it around to Tristan.

"Only a coward hides in the back while his friends fight for him," Dean accused Tristan, getting ready for a fight. This was the last straw, and he'd have no more of the pacifism crap –Tristan was in for a world of hurt.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Tristan sneered, laughing at the idea of Dean Winchester successfully fighting back.

"I'll show you," Dean growled. And before Tristan could blink, Dean was on him in a flash. He had no idea how fast the shorter Winchester was.

Once the pummelling began it was entirely one sided. Tristan's arrogance allowed Dean to get the better of him, and the hits came one after the other, with brutal disregard for injury. Dean's goal was to hospitalize this kid, not just hit him.

The brawls got rough fast, one of Sam's guys had been knocked back far enough he slid into Castiel's feet and knocked the injured teen to the floor with him. Cass' eyes met his peer's, fear growing and mixing with the blue as he watched the grin on the other male's face take shape.

"Hey Winchester's."

Tristan was face down on the floor, Dean had his arm pulled back and a heavy foot on Tristan's shoulder blade. The sinews and tendons were being slowly torn, a couple snapping sounds had already escaped the joint. Dean froze.

Sam paused and looked back to see Tristan's lackey holding Castiel up by the hair, "Quit fighting back or the holy boy gets it."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "You worm."

"Sonofabitch," Dean cursed, remaining in his shoulder-snapping position on top of Tristan.

Cass, having been entirely non-violent his entire life and enduring the mockery that was his father, was starting to see why people hit back. He'd been stepped on, pushed around, made fun of and worse; all the while he was nice to his tormentors, turning the other cheek and all that. But the last few days... He'd managed to make a new friend, start his school life over and do it right. The moment the school saw that he was friends with Dean Winchester everything he'd ever done for them was thrown out the window. Why did these people deserve his kindness? His forgiveness? They'd treat him like crap in a second if he spoke to the wrong person. He lived that way throughout his education years so far, but not anymore. Stepping back and not letting the social world of teenagers rule him, Castiel could see how cruel majority of them were to one another.

"You gonna back down or what?" Castiel's captor said smugly, his arrogance keeping his eyes away from the angry gaze of the young man he held down.

"Not on your life." Castiel's voice came out in a low growl, running a shiver down the spine of the bully. Cass wound back with his good arm and punched the teen below the belt, making sure to make contact with not only the fleshy bits but the bone beyond them.

Dean grinned widely, "Awesome." And then he pulled, tearing muscle and snapping bone from socket.

His hair was released immediately and before Cass knew it he was in the fight as well. Seconds after they heard the bellow of one of their teachers; "Gentlemen!" Several of the staff entered the scene and pulled the males off of one another, "The Principal's office, now!"

Tristan dropped his head, fighting the pain and trying to remain tough despite his injuries, "Man! Mr. McLeod's a friggin' creeper; can we sit with the secretary instead?" Of course, he had tears running involuntarily down his face; dislocated shoulders weren't too fun to endure.

"Crowley Fergus McLeod is a wonderful man and you will answer to him," the nicer though much stricter Mrs. Harvelle spoke up, taking hold of Tristan's ear, "Now come on."

Dean growled, "You're lucky to be alive, you little bitch." Dean got off the bully, complying with Mrs. Harvellle's directive.

Cass stood back for a moment, not quite understanding what he was supposed to do in a situation like this one. "You too, Mr. Novak." Mrs. Harvelle glanced over her shoulder at the confusion-overwhelmed teen.

"Me? See the Principal?" Cass had never done anything wrong in his entire life and now he was off to see the principal! He hadn't even started that fight!

Sam pulled away from the staff member holding him back and started walking, "Not a big deal Cass, we'll explain what happened when we get there."

Cass hobbled along after him, wincing at the renewed pain in his leg and arm.

Dean walked up beside Cass and helped him walk, giving him something to lean on. "It'll be alright, you were awesome back there." Dean smiled, fully appreciating the risk Cass took, and the move to defend himself.

Cass smiled up at his friend, "Thank you, Dean." He graciously accepted the help, leaning on Dean more than the Winchester would have expected. Cass was feeling pretty shitty and a lot more injured than he let on.

"Well well, what have we here?" Principal Crowley spun around in his office chair and thoroughly reminded Dean of Dr. Claw from Inspector Gadget, his hands were even clasped together and all he was missing was freaky looking cat. –but Dean knew better than to say any of that aloud. Crowley was one scary teacher, and though one would find it odd that a principal would wear a fine suit every day, it suited Crowley just fine.

"As I understand it, you boys were making one helluva ruckus out in my halls. Is that correct?"

"Well uh..." Cass started but Tristan spoke over him immediately, hoping to dump it on the Winchester's and Cass first.

"They just jumped us, Mr. McLeod," Tristan whined out, his arms painfully dangling at his sides. "He broke my arms!"

Crowely's brow twitched. "WOULD YOU SHUT THE HELL UP?" Apparently Tristan's snivelling over a broken arm warranted rage, not concern. That was just the kind of guy Crowley was –psychotic. Taking a deep breath before proceeding, Crowley modified his statement, "An ambulance is on its way. Go sit in the nurse's office. Tell her 'code 5'."

Tristan flinched but not as badly as Castiel did; the young priest in training had never been to the principal's office for anything close to this and thusly hadn't ever been yelled at like _that_. Not to mention his father was anti-violence, turn the other cheek stuff. Cass cowered slightly behind Dean, despite Sam being much bigger.

Tristan quickly made his escape, hiding his obnoxious sneer at the rest of them. Sam took a threatening step forward which only made the idiot run faster, a grin quickly crawling onto Sam's lips.

With Tristan gone, Crowley had the remaining seven teens in his office to deal with. Pointing to Tristan's possee, "You all are a pathetic lot. This is not the first time I've seen you in here, but it will be the last. Consider yourselves officially expelled. –NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!"

Cass cringed again; his eyes squeezed shut, tears quickly forming in them. What was he going to do if he were expelled? What would his father say?

Dean swallowed hard, nervousness rattling his confidence. He already suspected that Sam was straight-faced and unafraid; he was just that kind of guy. But this was Cass' first offence, and the poor guy was probably scared out of his wits. Dean couldn't blame him; every unexpected shout of rage had him jumping in his seat. Not to mention he just flat out expelled four kids. There was an upside to that, when Tristan returned to school, none of his friends would be there. Dean wondered if Crowley did that on purpose.

As expected, Sam sat unfazed by the whole thing. There was no fear in his eyes whatsoever; this was his first offence in a school, ever. Despite how violent he was, he'd never really done things like this until moving against his will. He didn't want to admit it but lashing out like this was pretty childish of him, though beating people like Tristan's group was _so_ worth it.

"Now, what am I going to do with you three? Hm?" Crowley paced around the boys, pondering his available courses of action. "You're new to the school, is that correct?" He asked Sam, stopping in front of him to get a good look at him.

"Yes sir." Sam's answer came out like he'd answer a drill sergeant, short and forward. His eyes made contact with Crowley's immediately, showing him that Sam wasn't going to run from punishment though he wasn't sorry either. "Sam Winchester, today's my fourth day in Lawrence."

"Now why would you be more concerned with fighting than making friends? Maybe you have psychological issues, love. You know what; I think your punishment will be mandatory sessions with the school counsellor. Twice a week until she says you're good to go. Maybe you should report to her right now." Crowley smiled; a cold, uninviting smile, almost as though he were daring Sam to choose otherwise.

Sam's expression flattened, unimpressed practically written on his broad forehead. He knew that Mr. McLeod had never met him before, but seriously? This guy had no idea of Sam's achievements and apparently didn't know Sam could fake mental health to a fault. He sighed heavily as if disappointed with his punishment, "Yes sir." He made sure not to express his gratitude for something so simple but pretend he was entirely distraught about the idea.

"And you, you nearly tore a boy's arm from its socket. Aggravated assault. You are hereby suspended, your return pending your prison release and a meeting with your parole officer. The police should be arriving shortly to detain you. Have a nice day."

Sam and Cass' eyes widened immediately, both looking at Dean. None were sure who'd gotten the worst of it in that office.

Dean remained sitting stiff in his chair. It was a fair enough guess that fighting in school would get him punished, but somehow school brawls didn't seem to equate with jail time. _'Maybe he's just saying that to scare me,'_ Dean tried to reassure himself.

"Finally, the little priest that could. I didn't think you had a retaliatory bone in your body, congratulations. However you were still caught in a fight resulting in hospitalization and imprisonment. Now how is it that you're falling into such a crowd, hm? Because you don't have a mother? Or your father is a hypocrite and couldn't care less? Or you just found something to fight for. Frankly, I don't really care."

Cass slumped in his chair, the tears overwhelming him and slipping down his cheeks, "Please, Mr. McLeod, I... I didn't mean to..." He wasn't sure where he was going with those words but he stopped himself before receiving the same treatment as Tristan.

Crowley paced around Cass' chair, placing a firm grip on his slung arm. "In school suspension, and you get to spend all your school hours right here, with me in my office. Sounds just peachy, doesn't it?"

Castiel winced at the grip on his arm, "Ah" he squeaked but quickly shut himself up. He sniffed as discretely as he could and nodded, "For how long?" He asked weakly.

"Hold up." Sam stood suddenly, his eyes concerned, "Can I at least explain what happened and why we did that?" He paused briefly but didn't give Crowley a real chance to answer him. "Yesterday Dean and I were playing hooky, the first time I've ever done it in my entire school-life. Tristan and his groupies targeted Cass and beat the hell out of him! Those injuries weren't from today; he was never hit in the fight just now. Tristan humiliated him and broke his arm; Dean and I were just getting pay back. Cass was only involved in today's fight because one of those goons threatened to beat him _again_, though he fought back for once. He shouldn't be punished for it. And neither should Dean.

"Dean only did as I told him," Sam added, he was an amazing liar, a skill he wasn't too proud of but he couldn't deny its usefulness. Hoping it would work, he continued, "I taught him that move the yesterday when we skipped class." Sam took a breath, his head tilted down so as not to appear like he was looking down his nose at the much shorter man. "Neither of these two would have been in that fight in the first place if it weren't for me, I hit Tristan first and a few other times. He started retaliating violently because of me. Please punish me instead, and if you won't do that then at least let me trade places with Dean. Please."

Cass leaned forward as well, Dean and Sam had just stuck their necks out for him, the least he could do was try to reciprocate it. "Mr. McLeod, I'll do anything, please don't send Dean to jail." With wide, determined eyes Cass attempted to duplicate an expression his father had a tough time saying no to.

"_Anything_?" Crowley repeated, intrigued. It was all too little too late, but such an overarching statement made him wonder what Castiel's self-worth was at. Evidently not very high, or he simply had a propensity for martyrdom.

The office door opened a crack, "Mr. McLeod," Two officers walked into the rather small office. The second officer was ready with her hand on her hip, right next to her holstered gun. "We're here for Dean Winchester."

"Ah, that one in the middle," Crowley gleefully pinpointed Dean out of the three, despite any attempts at bargaining or place-taking. "He's troubled, that one. Nearly tore a boy's arms clean off."

"Mmhm," the male office looked down at Dean, "Son, you can either get up and come quietly, or we can do this the fun way where I cuff you and force you out."

Dean slowly started to stand, still wishing that this wasn't true, hardly believing that it was really happening. _'How badly hurt is he?'_ Dean wondered. If Tristan was rushed to hospital and he was being escorted by the police, he must've gone a bit too far. All of Mary's warnings of 'watching his temper' made a whole lot more sense when he saw the consequences of not listening.

"Alright officers," Dean said shakily. He hoped his hesitation wasn't being taken as suspicious activity; he really couldn't help it at this point. Dean looked weakly to Sam and Cass for help, even though he knew there was nothing they could do.

The first officer nodded to the second, and she exited first. He then pushed Dean, indicating he should follow. "Let's go." Dean fell in step behind the female officer, and the first officer was right behind him.

Crowley grinned, "One more gone. And you," Crowley's darkening expression fell on Sam, "I thought I already dealt with you. Now go report in or else." Crowley was on the edge of explosion once more, his pudgy little face starting to turn red.

Sam glared at Crowley but stormed out anyway, he'd have to find a way to get Dean back somehow. Without another word Sam headed for the counsellor's office, assuming that since the cops were already there, the counsellor knew he was coming. A light sigh before opening knocking, Sam collected himself and put on his best 'I'm perfectly mentally healthy' face.

Cass shuddered and looked up at Crowley; he wasn't sure what to say so he remained silent. Obviously this man had no intentions of letting them make a deal otherwise he wouldn't have called the police immediately after hearing about the whole incident. After a long pause Cass gathered himself, "So... Now what?"

"What next?" Crowley mocked Castiel's question. "What do you think? I sit here with a leather strap and take a swing at you every so often until you break down and cry, and then I mock you for having no pride. All clear? Now I'm going to go get your assignments from first period. Just sit tight ducky."

Crowley whistled a jolly tune as he exited the room, leaving Castiel to worry about his upcoming weeks.

Cass flinched, several images of what the next few weeks were going to be like. He looked down at his slinged arm, not at all in a cast because he had fixed himself up last night instead of going to a doctor. _'That's it!'_ He slowly lifted himself from his chair once Crowley had gone, wincing at the jutting pain rushing through his body. He leaned against the wall for a moment before hobbling to the secretary's desk, his eyes red and puffy from crying already.

"Miss?" He asked weakly, his mind telling him to make it convincing, "I'm in a lot of pain, can I go to the hospital too?" He wasn't sure if the ambulance had already taken Tristan but he would prefer sitting in a hospital than sitting in Crowley's office for the rest of the day.

The nurse was startled; apparently Castiel's appearance matched his tone because she quickly rushed out of the room to stop the ambulance from leaving. They had just loaded Tristan into it when she caught up to them and explained the situation. Before Cass knew it, he was riding in the back of the emergency vehicle with Tristan and a medic, a sly smile tugging gently at the corners of his mouth. _'Maybe tomorrow, Mr. McLeod.'_

* * *

><p>At the station Dean was led over to a series of chairs and desks, and was seated at the first set nearest the aisle. "Look kid, high school is a world all its own. We've all been there, but most of us make it through without hospitalizing anyone. Your records look clean, so we're going to go easy on you. Fill out this incident report and we'll go from there." The officer smiled and pat Dean on the shoulder, "You look white as a ghost, calm down."<p>

The only number Dean could provide when asked was Sam's (and by extension his own) house number, but John was at the shop, and as far as Dean knew Mary was out applying for work. Until someone was available to escort him home, he'd remain at the station. Dean hung his head, wondering how long it would take. Hopefully Sam would get someone down here once he figured it out.


	7. Chapter 7

_Earlier that day..._

"**Hello, Pastor Jimmy? I need your advice. What should someone do if they discover an incestuous relationship?" **

Father Novak paused and stroked his jaw, "That's not right," he mused, "You force them apart, of course. If they're younger it should be easier, older I'd have to say punish them, if talking to them doesn't work then you'll have to humiliate them by letting the surrounding society know."

Mary played with the old style curly phone cord while anxiously awaiting Jimmy's reply. His words cut deep, just shy of saying 'Why, you burn them at the stake of course.' Mary swallowed hard, disgust mixing with remorse and fear. What if she lost her son over this? What if Dean never forgave her? She didn't know what she'd do if she lost that connection with her son.

Jimmy had never really been asked this question before; he started saying things that came to mind to satiate her concern. However, among the random thoughts that buzzed through his head he recalled hearing some of the town gossip discussing John Winchester and his boy Sam. "Wait a moment Mary; are you saying Sam and Dean are doing this?"

Mary grimaced, although she knew it was a thinly veiled question she didn't expect the pastor to know about John and Sam. "I-I never said any names..." Mary tried to deflect the conversation, to no avail.

He'd already pieced it together, regardless of her answer. "From what I've learned, my best answer as to how to solve this would be to tell John about it. He may get angry but he'll do exactly what you know you can't, let them get mad at him for forcing them apart, not you." Jimmy skimmed through his contacts, "Give me John's number and I'll tell him myself."

"Alright," Mary looked around the kitchen, finding a garage receipt and read the shop number off to pastor Jimmy. "Thank you for taking care of this Father Novak; I really appreciate your help."

Jimmy smiled, "Thank you for telling me." He finished the conversation with her quickly and immediately called John up, explaining everything as soon as he could.

"What!" John recoiled at the news, the sounds of the shop ringing behind him, "My boys..." He could hardly wrap his head around it, anger turning his cheeks a bright red. "I'll deal with it." John hung up abruptly, about to leave the shop when the phone rang a second time. He cleared his throat, took a breath and answered, "Hello, John Winchester speaking."

It was the police, John's answering machine left his work number as a secondary contact so the station got a hold of him that way. "He's there? Why is he..." John shook his head, "Alright, thank you. I'll come by to pick him up right away." Another click and the conversation was over. John had no idea what he was going to do to those boys but he was pretty sure he was gonna lose his mind thinking about it.

Dean sat and waited, head in his hands. On occasion he'd get bored and pace around the 8' by 8' holding cell. The cops weren't too angry, and Dean was happy that Tristan's father didn't have too many friends –that whole family was comprised of assholes. The only problem he had was that there was no one around to come and get him. Just as Dean was preparing for a seven hour wait, he could hear the officers talking to someone, someone angry. Dean stood up and walked to the doors, "John?" He asked, surprised that his bum of a father would show up for him.

After a bit of hub-bub with the police and some signing, John and Dean were out of there in no time. John didn't speak as they headed to the car, his blood ready to boil over. "Okay," he stopped and placed his hands on the roof, lowering his head to get a hold of himself, "Tell me something, why is that before coming here Sam was a good student, always studying and showing up for class; but after meeting you he's gay and incestuous!" John was beyond trying in that moment, obviously Mary had screwed up with Dean and now Dean was screwing Sam, literally.

Dean winced, he figured John would know eventually –Mary must have told him. Why wouldn't she? Finding his bad luck somewhat funny (Sam announced it and Dean gets the angry ex-marine), Dean wondered what the best course of action was: try and explain? Or keep quiet? "Look, what Sam and I have going on is no business of yours." Dean tried to keep a calm tone, but that wouldn't last long. "He's my boyfriend, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it." Dean glared at John and ground his teeth.

"Get in the damn car."

"I'll walk," Dean turned away and started down the street, and if John took so much as a step toward him he ran.

John took several menacing steps, watching Dean's retreating back, "You know we live at the same house, Dean!" He shouted angrily, "You can't run away forever!" He sighed and shook his head, for now; he would go back to work.

* * *

><p>"Oh <em>hellloooo<em> Sam! I've been expecting you!" The overly excited high pitch croon of the counsellor pierced Sam's ears. "Please, have a seat." She gleefully indicated the only other chair in her tiny office. "Now from what I understand from Principal Crowley, you have a few anger issues, is that right?" Her voice bore excessive amounts of inflections and waves of highs and lows, like speaking to a cat or some other pet.

"What I'll have you do first is fill out this personality assessment test..." This was going to be a long day.

Sam groaned as he filled out the little 'test'. "_'If someone stole your phone, what would you do? A. Beat them up. B. Just hit them once. C. Yell at them. D. Steal your stuff back.'"_ Sam stared at the page, trying hard to keep the frustration from his expression at the very least, _'What the fuck? All the options are basically angry options...'_ "Excuse me," He looked up at the counsellor who smiled up at him in acknowledgement. He kept his tone even and as normal as it could get, "I couldn't help but notice that this assessment test leans strongly toward anger, if I answered any of these you'd be able to say I have problems anyway."

The counsellor smiled even more, if that was even possible. "I'm sorry, must have given you the wrong test."

Sam just smiled sweetly back at her as he exchanged them, irritation being stifled successfully. _'Gonna be a really long day...'_

Eventually Sam made it to class though only for the last two periods. He dropped himself in a seat and frowned as the teacher droned on, even though he'd skipped a class the other day and he was still ahead of her teaching schedule. Sam groaned and slumped over his desk, wrapping his arms around his head and remained this way until the bell.

Dean ran back to the school, not too terribly keen on going back home to find John. Losing the man was hard enough the first time. Dean hid outside and waited for the lunch bell before going to find Sam. Sneaking about the halls, Dean skulked over to Sam's locker. "Sam!" Dean whispered at an audible level. "Sammy! How are you doing? C'mon, we've gotta cut class, John found out about us and tried to kill me after pulling me from the station. Now we've gotta go before the teachers catch me and kick me out. Again."

Sam started at Dean's voice and turned his head back to meet his brother's eyes, "Dean?" He couldn't believe Dean was right there and more importantly the news he brought. "Oh we're dead..." the idea that John knew so soon was a little off-setting, but hey that's what he gets for showing off in front of Mary first thing in the morning. "Yeah let's get the hell out of here."

"And fast."

Sam grabbed the shit from his locker and started trotting down the hall; he figured that Cass was still in the principal's office so there was no way to get to him. Sam felt bad for leaving Cass again but what could they do? Nothing, so why stick around.

Dean wasted no time in fast tracking them the hell out of school, the last thing he needed was more trouble from the teachers. If any of them had seen him, chances were that they didn't know he was expelled yet. Lucky him.

Sam headed for the park, a sort of sanctuary for him and Dean. "Well we can't go back." He glanced around, "I mean Dad'll murder us both, not to mention Mom doesn't exactly support this." He sighed and dropped down on a bench, "Any ideas?"

Dean gladly walked to the park with Sam –the strongest strides they had made in their relationship so far had been in this very park, and brainstorming here would probably be very beneficial. Dean walked close to Sam, wanting desperately to be near him. He was uncertain of how they would proceed, how to even start thinking about it. "We're not backing out of this now. Mom knows, John knows, and hell, the whole town probably knows. I'm sure this is what I want, and I'm pretty sure I know that this is what you want." By 'this' Dean was referring to the two of them, brothers and lovers all at the same time.

Sam nodded, keeping a close proximity to his brother as well, "Never said I wanted to back out, just need to figure out our bearings." He scratched his jaw thoughtfully.

"What else do we know for sure?" Dean tried bouncing some ideas off of Sam to get to a solution. "I think John's going to try and kill us. Maybe he'll blame mom. When he picked me up at the station he blamed me for you being gay, so I don't think you're at the top of his hit list." Dean's brow furrowed as he thought on it some more.

Sam shrugged, "I doubt dad'll kill us. He's got anger issues but he'll sooner lock us in separate rooms and yell for a while; maybe torture. Either way it doesn't make a difference, he'll yell at you for 'turning me gay' and he'll yell at me for 'falling for it'. We're on the same level I think." He chewed unconsciously on his bottom lip, his brow furrowing as he continued to think about it. "Dad might hunt us down if he's really pissed... He's always had issues with the thought of me leaving him." The boys stopped in a quiet, mostly unpopulated space, and dropped themselves in the grass.

Looking to Sam, Dean found that Sam's frustrated thinking expression was too cute for words. Despite the fact that he was obviously perturbed, there was something undeniably adorable about that face –or at least Dean thought so. Leaning in to steal a quick kiss probably broke Sam's concentration, but gaining Sam's attention made Dean smile. "We'll think of something."

Sam was blushing from the sudden kiss, his concentration fully destroyed as expected and his eyes trained on Dean now. "Yeah," he nodded with a small smile, though thinking of something wasn't the same thing as accomplishing it. He had no idea how any of this was going to turn out or how they'd get their stuff back. Regardless of any of that, though, he was glad Dean hadn't really changed about the whole thing. In the beginning he was a horny bastard and he still was, Sam couldn't mistake that little glint behind his eyes.

"Hey, remember when I said that in a few years we'll be able to move out? Just the two of us? Well what if we moved out early? We could skip town and find some other place. If your grades are really good you could probably get scholarships for secondary education. I'll work, pay rent and bills and stuff. What do you think? It'll get us out of this town and away from our parents at least. Maybe we could even bring Cass with, a roommate and potential source of income." The more Dean thought about it, the more excited he became. No more judging looks from every neighbour, no more of every person in town knowing what his mom did. Anonymity would be a nice change of lifestyle.

"You think we could handle it? I mean, could we both finish high school and live somewhere?" Sam knew that it was either struggle on their own or stop what they were doing, something he didn't even plan on thinking about. Dean was all he had and the idea that they'd live together but not be allowed to be with one another was more than he could bear, so it only made sense to do it this way. "Yeah alright, we'll maybe bust into our house, grab our stuff and book it. We need to go get Cass though, if we plan on bringing him with us... Later though." Sam's eyes scanned the ground in front of him for answers as to how they should go about this whole ordeal, though surprisingly he wasn't getting much out of it.

Dean looked at Sam a little longer, dwelling on his reasons for doing this. It was a choice he was making for himself, something that he desperately wanted. He was doing it for Sam, the young man sitting in front of him now, with that pleading expression that he probably didn't know he was wearing. For all of Sam's stoic, facial expression management, he really wasn't good at it if he didn't concentrate on it. Dean pulled Sam close and kissed him again, staying longer and kissing deeper. The warmth and passion he received from his little brother was intoxicating, inviting Dean to stay. Stay in the present, with lips locked and tongues dancing, stay in the feeling of loving him unconditionally, and staying in the future, for better and for worse.

Dean's arms curled around Sam's waist, hands slowly sneaking up beneath his shirt. Somehow Dean expected Sam's skin to be rougher, but it was surprisingly soft. Dean used some leverage from his position to lay Sam down onto the grass. Breaking the kiss off Dean smiled at Sam, "Why don't we just forget about that for now?"

A long and pleasurable shudder followed in the wake of Dean's touch, Sam's eyes fluttered open though only part of the way. Staring up at his big brother he licked his lips seductively, his mind already long off the idea of discussing what to do next. He grinned devilishly and pulled Dean down on top of him.

* * *

><p>Castiel was released from the hospital after a few hours; he hobbled down to the front desk and asked innocently for the use of a phone. The woman behind it smiled and helped him right away, recognizing him as her Pastor's son. "Thank you," he said as he dialled the number for home. It rang several times before Jimmy finally picked up, "Dad? I'm at the hospital, could you pick me up? ... From yesterday, remember I was using a sling? ... Well... I guess-" He stood silently for a moment and sighed lightly, "Alright then, I'll walk."<p>

Cass handed the phone back and started limping down the hall and out of the building. Apparently Jimmy was busy, too busy to come down to the hospital to give his injured son a ride home. Cass groaned as he put weight on his strained leg but continued anyway, cursing his luck with every step. He reached home after a long struggle, only to see a scantily dressed woman, not Mary of course, leaving his yard. _'THAT'S what he was busy with!'_ Cass' expression was blank as he tried to wrap his head around it.

He opened the door and dragged himself inside, "I'm home." He grumbled, looking over at Jimmy who was sitting at the table drinking coffee.

"Ah good timing, the church could use some tidying before tonight. I gathered a meeting." Jimmy spoke somewhat solemnly as he looked down at some books in front of him.

Cass shook angrily as he lifted his feet from his shoes, "No." He turned hateful blue eyes on his father, "Can't you see I can barely walk! You saw me yesterday and you still haven't done anything to help me! You wouldn't even pick me up from the hospital, just because you had a _prostitute _over! What kind of meeting COULD BE SO IMPORTANT!" Castiel shouted, his cheeks flushing red and his fists clenched at his sides.

Jimmy blinked incredulously at Cass' outburst, "You've never acted this way before, Castiel." He stood up from his chair, "The meeting is about your friends Sam and Dean Winchester, it is important. And have you stopped to wonder if maybe your injuries are punishment for being involved with them? You know they're incestuous, don't you?"

Castiel couldn't believe his ears, was his dad really trying to sell the 'Tristan beat you up as divine punishment' line? "I can't believe you!" Cass put his shoes back on and grabbed the phone, dialling Bella's number.

Cruising down Main Street in mid day with her brand new, albeit 'borrowed' Lexus was the start of a wonderful morning for Bella. The man hardly knew who swindled him, it was just exhilarating. Bella heard the all-too familiar jingle chime from her purse in the seat next to her and answered her phone. "Hello?" Bella found that while more elaborate introductions seemed more sophisticated, they gave away more personal details than she could afford, at least until she could determine the reason for the call. This time it was Castiel.

"Hi, Bella? Could you come pick me up?" he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this at the hospital.

"Pick you up? Whatever for?" Bella heard the wincing in Castiel's voice, whatever the reason he was evidently in pain.

"I got into a fight with my father but leaving the house isn't a great option because I have trouble walking right now..." He tried to explain but figured it'd be best for an in-person conversation.

"You can't _walk_?" Concern grew in her voice as Castiel fumbled over his words, "I'll be right there."

"Thank you, I'll see you when you get here."

Jimmy frowned, "Castiel I told you to tidy up the church."

Cass started limping out the front door, "And I said no." He slammed it shut and went to sit on the front step, waiting for his ride.

Jimmy shook his head, "They corrupted my son too. I have to do something about this."

In a very short while Bella pulled up in front of the church. She did stop to reflect on the oddity of her coming to a church twice a week when she couldn't be further from Christian, but nevertheless, here she was again. She rolled down the power window for the passenger side. "Need a lift?" she offered innocently.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Cass smiled and stumbled to her car, "Where you want to go?"

"Nuh uh, me first: What did you break? Have you been to the hospital yet? When did this happen? Who did it? Why is your father mad at you? And how did you get into this mess in the first place?" Bella figured that after all those, she could at least answer the question of where they were going herself: to a diner for some cheese burgers.

Cass smiled, "Cheese burgers sounds like a good idea, I'll tell you everything on the way and I suppose once we get there; assuming it takes longer than I expect."

* * *

><p><em>Later that evening...<em>

Mary paced around the kitchen, "I can't believe they never came home. We've got to go and find them. What if they're hurt?"

John watched Mary pace about, shaking his head. "We've got to go find them alright," John muttered, "If they aren't hurt yet then they're gonna be. He walked to the door, "Come on, Sam likes to take nature hikes when he's pissed so he'll be in that kind of area."

"Nature hikes? Probably a long habit of leaving the house to get away from you, huh?" Mary was simply guessing, based on past experiences, but she still didn't mean to be too insulting about it. She was angry that the boys ran away, disgusted with their twisted love, and hurt that this was all happening to her, that she had no close loved ones to turn to. Taking it out on John was the most plausible outlet.

John rolled his eyes at Mary's little stabbing comments, "Ha ha, very funny. But you're probably right about that, Sam was usually pissed with me when he left."

"There is a park on the east side of town, they may have gone there." Mary quickly followed John to the car, time probably wasn't of the essence, but those boys were in for a world of hurt.

"Sounds like his kind of place, let's go." John's expression hardened as he climbed behind the wheel, his eyes fixated on the road ahead of him.

* * *

><p>"Ms Lanset told me. She heard from her sister in-law, who heard it from the piano player from church, who got it directly from Pastor Jimmy. I can't believe that family! First that whore of a mother, and now this! Her sons are straight from the devil, I tell you. There'll be a meeting at the church tonight, you should really come."<p>

Ellen Harvelle nodded politely while on the phone, adding the audible "Uh huh," to indicate her disinterested following of the story. "Look, it's none of our damned business. What in the world do you need a congregational meeting for? This ain't the witch hunts."

"Oh yes it is."

_Back at the church..._

Jimmy stood in front of dozens of people, all concerned about this 'incest' problem. "We need to stop it now before it's too late," he explained seriously, "My boy," Jimmy shook his head, "Castiel has already been corrupted and punished for his relationship to them, and has even run off. I can't tell you how serious this in, we need to find those boys and put an end to this!"

The crowd shouted in agreement, "Spread out and find them!" Someone shouted; another 'hurrah' shaking the building in response. Before long Jimmy Novak had sent a mob of people out to find the Winchester boys, all angry and ready for action.

* * *

><p>Sam sighed gently and leaned on Dean's shoulder, having spent the last while together leaned against a tree with little to say. Not that the silence was awkward, just that they didn't really need to say anything. They both knew they had to run, though they also knew they needed some supplies first, not to mention Castiel wouldn't mind knowing.<p>

As the sun was setting, no better ideas had come to mind, and the Winchester brothers simply sat with the daunting task of escape on their minds. When Sam would sigh, Dean would copy. Not to be a pain, and not to be a bother, but simply because expressing exhaustion was contagious, much like yawning.

Sam was pretty tired after a long day of fighting, writing stupid tests, running and hiding. He looked up at Dean with those big eyes, glad that his brother was right there with him. "I love you Dean." Sam whispered lightly, nuzzling his head against Dean's shoulder. Entirely uninformed of the search parties that were on to them.

Sitting upright with Sammy leaned into his side, Dean felt at peace. The dangers of social repercussion felt miles away when he had his little brother with him. Looking down at Sam, Dean couldn't help the smiled that took over. "I love you too." Dean planted a soft kiss on top of Sam's head and ruffled his hair.

* * *

><p>John and Mary were out searching for the boys, as was a convoy was religious nut-cases. The sky had grown dark already and rain was starting to fall. At the tail end of summer in the first week of September the rain was still fairly warm, though it was turning out to be a pretty heavy shower. Several of the vehicles, several times, swerved and had brief moments of no control while the driver's fought against hydro-planing.<p>

Cass and Bella were sitting together in a small diner named _Charlie's_, they'd been there since she picked him up earlier that afternoon. "I can't believe it's so dark already," Cass muttered as he stared out the window, watching one or two cars pass by. He smiled at Bella, "I can't thank you enough for today, if not for you this would have been the worst day of my life."

Bella smiled as a warm blush spread across her cheeks, she had spent so long trying to show Cass her feelings for him when she helped him out a year ago, only to have the dense priest-boy walk right by them. At first she had felt hurt and unwanted, but after a time she had come to realize that he just hadn't known, which in its own right was sort of cute. "I'm sure it wasn't the worst day, even without me. I mean really, your mother died, right? That must have been pretty awful." Bella stopped herself before continuing; reminding Cass of _worse_ days was not going to cheer him up.

Cass saw her expression fall and waved his hands, "It's okay, Bella. It's been a long time now; I'm not going to have a break down over mentioning it." He smiled shyly, glancing away. He'd never had anyone really concern themselves with how he felt. "But thank you."

As he gently reached across the table to take her hand a loud screech shattered the atmosphere, soon following was a deafening crash, one that Castiel wouldn't soon forget. Blue eyes turned back to the window to see his father's car mangled with a 1967 Impala just across the parking lot. "Oh god no..." He whispered, starting to stand.

The screech was grating, and the world seemed to move in slow motion. The patrons of the restaurant all rose from their seats to get to the window and see what happened. With the diner setting, and the vintage look of the 67 Impala, Bella couldn't help but remember the song "Last Kiss," most popularly covered by Pearl Jam.

_I'll never forget the sound that night  
>The screamin' tires, the bustin' glass<br>The painful scream that I heard last_

Beyond the feel of the accident, Bella picked up on the more important detail: that was Castiel's father's car. "We should go check."

Castiel stood in shock, his limbs hardly listening to him as he stumbled toward the door, Bella's voice a muffled sound in the background of his racing mind. "Dad..." He whispered, one of the last to leave the diner.

Running out into the parking lot alongside several other bystanders and on-lookers, Bella pushed her way through to the accident itself. She pointed at the first person who caught her eye, "You! Call 911, report the accident." Quickly moving to inspect the vehicles, she visibly paled at the sight of blood. It was everywhere. Taking a slow step back, she felt a soft squish beneath her boot. Lifting her foot, she found a chunk of flesh and a smear of blood –the occupants of both vehicles were very dead.

Despite his injuries, Castiel made it to the site, his black shoes splashing into a mixture of blood and water, his eyes fixated on the wreckage before him. The last conversation he'd had with his father replaying in his head, the last time they'd shared a glance it was hateful. The words they exchanged were unfriendly at best and Cass still didn't agree with Jimmy's view of things, so why did he feel so awful about it? Why did it kill him to stare at this mess and know his father was never coming back? Because it was his father, dead just like his mother so long ago.

Running to Cass' side, Bella tried to pull him away from the sight. "You shouldn't look," she insisted, pulling at his arm and trying to direct him back to the restaurant. "I'm so sorry Cass."

Cass felt Bella's hands on him; the way she tugged made the situation so much more real, so much worse. "Daddy..." his tears fell like the rain that pounded the top of his head and his knees quivered beneath his weight, "Daddy!" Cass screamed, stumbling forward toward the accident but Bella's grip on him held him back. "NO! No don't leave me!" His sobs wracked his injured body as he crumpled to the pavement, "DADDY!"

* * *

><p><strong>Day 7<strong>

Castiel stood now in a new suit, his eyes red and swollen from crying, before a group of unnerved individuals. Behind him were three graves, one for Jimmy Novak, Mary Winchester, and John Winchester, respectively. There was no viewing because there was nothing to be viewed, it had been three days since the accident happened and this was the first time anyone had seen the preacher's son since that night, aside from his closest friends.

It was time for the final words to be spoken and Castiel barely had a hold on himself to keep from crying. He held several notes on the different funeral types, though each person who died really deserved something distinctly different from the next. For example, John was an ex-marine, Jimmy was a preacher, and Mary was a civilian.

Earlier the day before, Cass had asked Sam and Dean to give the last words on their respective parent, knowing that they both hated the one that hadn't raised them. He looked pleadingly at the Winchesters; hoping one of them was more prepared than he was to start the whole thing off.

Sam and Dean had gone to Castiel's place the day after the accident in hopes of convincing him to leave with them, which was when they were given the news. No one could get a hold of either brother after the scene, so Castiel had to break the news to them.

Sam sat now in his Sunday best, keeping a straight back and kept his eyes on the American flag folded atop his father's casket. Seven soldiers stood ready with their guns, all in perfect form. Sam stood first and took his place in front of basically the entire town.

"My name is Sam Winchester; my father, John Winchester, and I moved here about a week ago. He was an ex-marine, hence the soldiers. He was a difficult man, hard-headed and pretty stubborn." Sam's jaw quivered as he spoke, his voice a little shaky, "He and I fought all the time, I hated him, for a lot of things. The last time I spoke to him was over the phone, we argued and that was it." Sam wiped his eyes quickly, "I learned a lot from him; how to fight, how not to talk to people, my stubbornness and so many other things that I can't really explain right now. Despite how much we fought I never wanted him dead. I'll miss him; I know I'll miss him." Sam took a breath and walked over to John's coffin, copying the salute John had shown him as a young boy. "Bye, Dad." He whispered.

As Sam sat down again, Castiel wiped his eyes, trying to compose himself. He knew Dean would be as much of a wreck as he was or more, so Cass had to go next.

"Hello everyone," Cass cleared his throat, tears running down his cheeks, "I uh, you all know me and Father Novak, he was your priest, a man you could confide in, someone to run to for help when you needed it." He inhaled deeply, sniffling and blowing his nose followed by wiping his eyes again, "I loved him," his voice broke again but he swallowed hard to recover it, "We all loved him and we will all miss him. I'm sorry for everything dad," Cass looked down at the coffin, rubbing his eyes again, "I'm so sorry..." He covered his mouth and motioned for Dean to step up next.

Sam gave Dean's shoulder a comforting squeeze, to tell him he wasn't alone in this. "It'll be okay, Dean." He whispered.

The whole thing was a joke –the entire town turned out for the preacher, and they just happened to accidentally attend the funeral of the town whore. The entire scenario left a bitter taste in Dean's mouth. How many of these people had slept with her? How many of them had insulted, berated, and judged without ever exchanging a single word? How many of them would have come if it were only her day, and not the preacher's. Some of them were already leaving now that Castiel had spoke. Dean stepped up to the caskets, standing in front of the one that housed his mother's still corpse.

"My mother was a wonderful woman. She was kind, beautiful, and strong. She has always done her best for me, and we had done alright for ourselves until this past week." Dean tried to keep his voice level, free of cracks, squeaks, and sniffles. "None of you will ever understand the kindness my mother held for others. And most of you will never reflect on what a dirty, disgusting bunch of people you are for what you've done to your wives and children. I loved my mother, like a son should. And she deserved that love. While I never believed in it, I hope there is a heaven waiting for her."

Dean stepped down and returned to Sam, his jaw quivering from the strain of keeping himself in check, of having to speak over his mother's corpse. He threw his arms around Sam, hugging him tightly and starting to sob as the remaining attendants rose to speak for Father Novak.

Sam held Dean tightly, kissing the top of his head gently, "I'm proud of you Dean," he whispered with a smile, "I'm glad you got the chance to tell them off for once."

As the remaining attendants disappeared one by one, Dean approached Cass, who Dean figured would stay till the last. "Hey Cass," Dean started, joining him and standing by him for a short while before continuing. "Sam and I are leaving town, fresh start and all that. I was wondering if you wanted to join us." Part of Dean knew that if he wasn't able to pull Cass from this town now, the boy would probably take over the old church and house combo, living the rest of his life as though he were his father.

"I really think it would be good for you to get out of this town..." Dean really didn't want to leave him behind, his best friend in years of lonely schooling.

Castiel stood in silence for a moment, he could hardly judge Sam and Dean for the incest and homosexuality; he'd already accepted it as fact and had moved on. So why, then... why did he feel anger for their relationship now? Because if they hadn't been so open in a small town of religious crazies then his father would still be alive, and so would their parents.

Cass shook his head for a moment, rubbing his eyes. It wasn't their fault that the town reacted like a bunch of retards, what could they do about it? They didn't grow up together but they ended up loving one another, it just so happened that their love wasn't predominantly brotherly. Cass smiled at Dean sadly, "I would love to come with you two." He says hoarsely, his eyes feeling extremely tired and raw as he gazes at the only person he's willing to live with at this point. "I'd like to move as far away from all of this crap as I can."

Sam smiled, "Great, then I suppose that's settled." He took Dean's hand and squeezed it, "We're gonna need a vehicle, but I think with dad's savings and Jimmy's we should be able to get what we need."

Cass nodded, his arms being kept fairly close, "Bella said she'd help me out if I needed it," he smiles shyly, "I already asked her to cover Mary's debt," he glances up at Dean, "So you're free from that."

Sam looks a little confused now, his brow furrowing, "Wait, she can just fix someone's debt like that?"

"She's pretty talented," Cass smirks, "She's gotten me out of several messes in the past; something like this is no problem for her."

"Wow, so can she score us a decent place to live?" Sam figured there was nothing wrong with getting the most from your resources.

Cass shrugged, "We'll see." His answer was good enough for Sam, who promptly kissed Dean's cheek.

"We'll be okay," he smiled, his tone indicating it was more of a promise than a hope.

Dean smiled, it seemed like everything was going to work out ok. He still didn't understand what the hell was up with Bella, where she came from or how she managed the things she did, but that was probably irrelevant now. What happened with Tristan and his condition in the hospital, well, thinking about that just made Dean laugh. Aside from John's and Jimmy's savings, all three died in an automobile accident, and at least John and Jimmy would have coverage for that. Their deaths almost seemed like a blessing now, opening up opportunities that would've otherwise been extraordinarily difficult. It was a difficult thought to digest, but it would eventually settle.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note<span>: **

**Hey sorry this story kind of sucked lol matsu and I started entertaining ideas of PMA2 and then this story fell downhill I think o_o anyway, if you bothered to read it thank you! I appreciate those who reviewed :)**


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